


Masks

by Braincoins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff + Politics, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow burn i guess?, bed sharing, like ...quick walking pace?, medium slow, pining!Shiro, semi-au, the other paladins & Coran are in here too but not as much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-07 01:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braincoins/pseuds/Braincoins
Summary: Shiro screws-up and Allura has to cover for him by pretending they're married. This means Shiro is now involved in the negotiations with an alien race rumored to have sent the Galra packing. They could be a great help to the Coalition, so long as they're not offended or insulted in some way. So it's Allura's job to convince them to sign on, and it's Shiro's job to be her consort. Neither of those should be that difficult... right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Marvelous](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878427) by [Braincoins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braincoins/pseuds/Braincoins). 



> First off, this is a continuation of "Marvelous" from back during the Shallura Holiday celebration in December. That fic has been cleaned up and edited a bit more and forms the first part of this first chapter. All the rest of this chapter (and the subsequent ones) is brand new material continuing from there.
> 
> Thanks out to the Sock Drawer denizens and to Miss L for beta-reading, commentary, and especially title help. I couldn't think of a title for this thing for FOREVER. <3 Special thanks to [pixie_rings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings) for her beta-reading assistance, as always! <3  
> =============

            “The Grashnarians take their rituals very seriously,” Coran was saying for easily the ten thousandth time.

            “I got it,” Shiro interrupted, a tad snappishly. He took a moment to calm himself down. “We’ve been over and over this. I got it. It’s really not that difficult.”

            “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s been so long since we hosted a proper ball – that little thing we threw for the Arusians was nothing! – and the Grashnarians are one of the few people to successfully repel Galra forces. They’d be outstanding allies for the Coalition and I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

            “It’ll be fine, Coran,” he reassured him. “The team knows how important this is. They’ll behave.”

            Coran barked a laugh. “Paladins _behaving_. That’s a good one.”

            “It’ll be fine,” he repeated.

 

 

            And it was, at first. As he’d promised, the Paladins were all behaving (though he did catch Keith tugging in annoyance at the high collar of his dress uniform). Hunk was commanding a veritable army of floating trays, all laden with a variety of gorgeously-made hors d’oeuvres or cups of nunvill. Keith and Pidge were working security: Pidge had set up a network of unobtrusive cameras that could provide on-demand feeds to the Paladins through a wrist projector they each wore, and Keith was running security the old-fashioned way by eyeballing anyone who looked like they might be thinking of causing trouble. And Lance was, of course, working the crowd. Shiro had worried about that at first, but it turned out that he was taking the stern warnings he’d been given beforehand to heart. Lance was mingling well, never saying more than a few words to anyone before flittering off to the next conversational cluster like the social butterfly he was. Shiro was duly impressed.

            He was supposed to be helping with security, but he had found himself the center of attention in short order. The Grashnarians seemed impressed with him and he had trouble escaping the ritualized-but-mostly-empty chit chat that he was forced to engage in. _Never say ‘no’ directly,_ he thought, going over the rules Coran had drilled into them. _Don’t use absolutes – like “never.” Don’t smile large enough to show your teeth. Don’t be ingratiating; no effusive displays of emotion._ A headache was tiptoeing around the edges of his mind.

            Fortunately, the lights dipped once to get everyone’s attention. That was the cue. _Thank goodness._ Shiro excused himself to get to his place as the music faded away.

            Coran had gone over the princess’s required formal introduction about a dozen times, and they’d even practiced it to get their spots exactly right. The Paladins took up positions near the staircase, with Shiro standing in the center. You could draw a semi-circle from one of them to the next, and they faced the crowd initially, standing as the royal guard they were expected to be (and, in effect, were).

            Coran announced, loud and proud and full of pomp, “Princess Allura of Altea.” Shiro counted the ticks; she was supposed to come out and stand at the top of the stairs. He had to wait until she was in place, and they’d timed this during practice. _…three… four… five._ The Paladins turned with proper martial precision to face the princess and drop to their knees – the sign that everyone else here should do likewise.

            But when Shiro turned around, he caught full view of her. They’d practiced with her in the same dress and cape combo that he’d come to think of as her “civilian” clothes. He hadn’t really thought that she might be wearing anything else. He was completely unprepared for the vision in front of him.

            Her hair was pulled back from her face with ornate, sparkling clips. Her dress shimmered faintly, and it seemed… pearlescent in the lights: sometimes pink, sometimes blue, sometimes white, all shifting and fading into each other. It clung to her body until it reached her hips, the skirt draping softly nearly to the floor. She still had a high-necked cape on, but it was almost transparent, and edged in gilt with the entirety of it covered in golden swirls and patterns. Instead of her usual circlet, a small tiara sat atop her moonlight tresses.

            Princess Allura was the most radiant being in the universe right now. Shiro was rendered helpless, unable to do anything but stare at her. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. She was smiling, but as her eyes locked on his, they crinkled lightly at the corners.

            She descended the stairs towards him – not in his general direction, towards _him_ , no one else. Was there even anyone else alive? Did it matter if there were? He was here and she was here, and he could never in his life have imagined someone so gorgeous even noticing him, let alone smiling at him as if the two of them were sharing some secret joke.

            She walked right up to him, then helped herself to his left arm. He thought his heart would burst right out of his chest… until she strong-armed him into turning around to face the crowd again.

            It all came rushing back at once: _I was meant to be kneeling_. Everyone else was. They were also not-so-subtly looking up at him. He wanted to see if the other Paladins were kneeling, but he was facing away from them now. He – and Allura – were the center of attention.

            “Thank you. Please rise,” she said smoothly, and though her voice was no different than it was any other quintant, it resurrected some of his awe of her. She sounded so confident, so powerful… _And she still has her arm in mine._

He risked a look at her, just in time to see her cast another secretive-looking smile at him. “Shall we?” she asked him. He nodded, having no idea what to say or do now. _Coran didn’t go over any of this._

            But that was his own fault. _I was supposed to kneel until she stood before me and I could see the hem of her dress and then I would stand and step aside to let her pass, and…_ At no point was he supposed to be arm-in-arm with her as she made her way through the crowd. _But then, at no point was I to just stand there and gawk like an idiot._

            He remained mostly quiet as they went from group to group. He answered direct questions but otherwise let her do the talking. When he heard her clear her throat, he grabbed a cup of nunvill for her from a passing tray.

            “Thank you, dear.”

            He blinked. _“Dear”?_ But he couldn’t ask her about it; he was being asked a question about Voltron as she sipped her drink.

            At one point, a group of mostly female Grashnarians began offering congratulations. He assumed they were commending Voltron’s many victories thus far, and he thanked them. But before he could segue into the need for a strong Coalition to keep the triumphs coming, Allura squeezed his arm once. He shut up instantly and hoped his face wasn’t as red as he feared it was.

            “I know it’s a bit unorthodox,” Allura said. “But I wished to underscore the need for strong leadership in the trying times ahead of us.” And then _she_ segued into a Coalition pitch.

            _What’s unorthodox? Voltron? I mean, I know it’s the only one of its kind, but “unorthodox” seems a bit… strange. Maybe it’s a translator error. And what does the rest of that mean?_ He was confused but just kept silent for now.

            Not long after, Allura quietly asked him to fetch her some appetizers, and he, regretfully, broke away to gather up an assortment for her. She took his arm again before she thanked him with another “dear.” _What **is** going on?_

Finally, the party began to wind down. Allura was expected to say goodbye to each and every attendee, and since she wouldn’t let go of Shiro, he had to stand there through it as well. When the first came up to leave, Allura bid them farewell then nudged him faintly. He repeated the ritual saying she’d just said, wishing them good night and safe travels. Then over and over and over again it went: Allura first, then him, for every guest.

            When the last had left, Allura finally let go of his arm, just in time for the Paladins and Coran to swoop down upon him.

            “I thought you said you knew what you had to do!” Coran was crowing in outrage.

            “Yeah, how’d you forget? It was really easy.”

            “Ha! You had to do it five times in practice before you got it right!”

            “But it was easy for Shiro! He got it right away; we just had to perfect the timing!”

            “How’d you mess up _that_ badly?!”

            “Paladins!” Allura declared. “Please, it’s been a long night. I will explain things to Shiro. You should all get to bed. We’re expected at the Grashnarian Diplomatic Palace early, after all.”

            Coran opened his mouth to protest but shut it again at a single look from her. He sniffed and then began herding the team away.

            Shiro looked to Allura in bewilderment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I knew exactly what I had to do, but…”

            “But…?” she prompted.

            He swallowed hard and considered lying, but he was tired after a night of wearing an emotional mask. He didn’t have the energy to hold back. “I was just absolutely captivated by you.” Her cheeks and ears flared, but he kept going, too worn out to keep from babbling. “You were – _are_ – amazing. Just incredible, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t think of anything but how beautiful you looked.” He felt his face heating, and he cleared his throat, taking a tick to calm himself down before retreating into comfortable professionalism. “I know I screwed up. I’m so sorry. But it didn’t seem to have upset the Grashnarians any, so…”

            “That’s because I covered for your slip-up,” she told him, still blushing.

            “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

            She shrugged. “There are worse things than pretending to be married to you.”

            His eyes widened. “I’m sorry, d-did you say ‘married’?”

            She nodded. “In Grashnarian culture, only my spouse would be allowed to look at me as I descended. You would also be required to stay by my side through the evening, and to bid the guests farewell beside me.” That secretive smile was back. “It’s a good thing you’re not royalty yourself, or it wouldn’t have worked, as you would have been expected to arrive alongside me. I did have to do some explaining as to why I would marry ‘beneath my station’ as it were…”

            “Is that what’s ‘unorthodox’?” he asked as everything clicked into place.

            She nodded. “I wouldn’t be allowed to say that I married you because you’re brave, kind, thoughtful, or handsome. That would scandalize them. But to imply that it is a merger of necessity and leadership worked perfectly and allowed me to talk more about the Coalition.”

            If he wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now. “I’m… grateful for your quick thinking, Princess. Though not especially surprised by it.”

            She chuckled. “Enough formality, please. We both need to get to bed. You’re going to have to get up even earlier so Coran can go over with you the expectations of a royal spouse in diplomatic talks.”

            “Well, I suppose there are worse things than pretending to be married to the most radiant princess in the universe,” he quoted back at her.

            She blushed again. “And, to be clear, even if I’m not allowed to say it, I am still allowed to _think_ it.” Her smile edged into a smirk.

            His brow furrowed. “Sorry, help me out; it’s been a long night.”

            She laughed a little, her blush deepening. “My, um… ‘reasons’ for marrying you.”

            He thought back and felt his face heat again. “Really?” He knew he was grinning like a complete fool, but hardly cared.

            She nodded. “Especially in your dress uniform.” She took a moment and a step back to look him up and down. “Very… impressive.”

            He cleared his throat. “Not half so as you are. You’re like some sort of glowing goddess.”

            She laughed as she began walking. “Now you’re overdoing it.”

            He kept pace with her. “Well, we’re apparently newlyweds…”

            “VERY newly,” she agreed.

            “…so I think I’m required to overdo it. At least when the Grashnarians aren’t around.”

            Her laugh was musical. “Just trying to get into character, are you?”

            “A bit.”

            “Get some sleep instead. You’re going to need it.” She paused and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Good night, ‘dear.’”

            Even knowing it was pretend, it made his pulse quicken to hear her say it. “Good night, dear.” He watched her walk away towards her room, then turned to go back to his own, his heart and mind full of the idea of being the Royal Consort to the Princess of Altea.

 

 

            He was rudely awakened from some very sweet dreams by Coran barging into his room with a data tablet and a floating clothing rack. “Try some of these on while you read up on your responsibilities, Prince-Consort,” he declared grumpily. “We might need to have the Castle’s tailorbot do some alterations, and we only have three vargas before you’re expected at the Diplomatic Palace.”

            Shiro groaned as he swung his legs over the bed. “Coran, it was an acci-…”

            “I know it was!” Coran glowered at him. “But now we’re stuck with it.” He thrust the tablet at Shiro, who accepted it in resignation.

            The print was small, and there was an awful lot of it. “Can’t you just give me the quick version?”

            “No, I Cannot.” He was adamant. “Part of being a Prince-Consort is studying up on these things!”

            “I’m not actually the Prince-Consort,” he reminded Coran.

            “No, you aren’t.”

            Shiro tossed the tablet on his bunk next to him. “And I can’t read Altean.” It wasn’t exactly true, but he couldn’t read fluently (or in this tiny a font).

            Coran exhaled. “Right. Okay, so here’s what you need to know…”

            The royal advisor filled him in as he tried on outfit after outfit. Nearly all of them fit well in the shoulders and chest but were a bit too tall, too roomy in the waist, etc. When Coran took a breath longer than a single tick, Shiro seized his opportunity. “Where did you get all these clothes?”

            “They are,” he stopped to clear his throat and correct himself, “ _were_ King Alfor’s.”

            “Oh.” Shiro’s face heated. “I… that’s not… I can’t…”

            “You have to. We don’t have time for anything else. These are some of his less-fancy clothes anyway; you’re not of royal blood, but you must be presentable as Allura’s consort. Now, as I was saying…” And they were back on their lessons.

            Shiro was trying to keep up, but it was hard to focus with his mind spinning on the fact that he was wearing Allura’s father’s clothes. _These are shoes – and shirts and pants – I was never meant to fill._

            “Shiro!”

            He snapped to attention out of reflex. “Sorry, Coran. I’m listening. Mostly.” He cleared his throat and relaxed. “Basically, I’m to act like a glorified bodyguard unless my opinion is specifically asked for.”

            “Essentially, yes. And be _grateful_ for being a glorified bodyguard, while we’re at it! The last princess of Altea chose _you_ as her husband. Don’t ever forget that.”

            “I couldn’t forget that even if I managed to live ten thousand years.”

            Coran snorted in mirth. “I have to get these to the tailorbot. You’ll have to coordinate your outfits with Allura’s, so I’ll bring back an appropriate one for you and pack the rest.”

            “Wait, pack?” he asked.

            “Well, yes. Oh, I forgot that part.” Coran’s smile was a bit tight at the corners. “Allura – and her spouse – are expected to stay in the Diplomatic Palace during the talks. They’ll provide you with room and board while you’re there.”

            Shiro blinked. “Uhh, I don’t suppose there’s some way around that?”

            “Absolutely not. It would be an insult.”

            “But I need to keep the team updated, and…”

            Coran sighed. “Look, in the end, this slip up of yours may be the best thing to happen. Before that, Allura was expected to stay there alone. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with that, I don’t mind telling you.”

            Shiro’s jaw tightened. “I wouldn’t have liked that, either.”

            Coran nodded. “But now you can be there to keep her safe. I mean, we have no reason to suspect the Grashnarians would mean her harm, but I worry about her. Too much, she says.”

            “I understand, Coran. I’ll look after her, I promise.”

            “Good. Hurry up and eat, get cleaned up. Talk to the Paladins before you leave so they know what’s going on.”

            “I’m on it.”

            Coran pushed the floating clothing rack back out of his room and Shiro felt… deflated. Last night had been one thing, but this? He felt unworthy to even pretend to be Allura’s consort, and definitely unworthy to wear King Alfor’s clothes. But this was all part of the job, part of the mission.

            _The Grashnarians were conquered by the Galra and then managed to repel their forces and reclaim their world. No one knows how, and the Grashnarians are keeping it a secret. Whether they share that secret with us or not, we **need** them in the Coalition._

            His mind wandered back to Allura in that dress, to her secretive smiles, to her laughter, to her compliments. _Let’s just hope she’s not dressed like that all the time, or I might not be able to function as a paladin of Voltron, let alone a royal consort._

It occurred to him that he had to explain this to the others. “This’ll be great,” he groaned.

 

 

            And things had gone exactly as he’d predicted.

            Lance was making kissy faces, Pidge was snickering when she wasn’t high-fiving Hunk, and Keith…

            “You screwed up one thing and now you’re married to her?” he asked.

            “Well, as far as the Grashnarians are concerned, yes. They take their rituals very seriously.”

            “Yeah, Coran only told us that like thirty times,” Hunk said.

            “Prince-Consort Shiro _does_ have a nice ring to it,” Lance chimed in.

            And then, of all people, it was _Keith_ who replied with, “Prince-Consort Takashi Shirogane, you mean.”

            “Oh, yes, we have to be Proper about this sort of thing.”

            “Remember, Shiro: pinkies up when you drink your tea,” Pidge giggled.

            He rolled his eyes. “Way to be supportive, team. We have a more pressing problem.”

            “Than your sudden and remarkably-unexpected nuptials?” Lance asked, all wide-eyed innocence that no one at this table was gonna buy for an instant.

            “I didn’t even get to throw you a bachelor party,” Keith pouted.

            “GUYS.” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking that we’d be able to bring back the intel every night, but that’s not going to be possible. Coran says Allura and I will be expected to stay at the Diplomatic Palace.”

            “That’s what comm links are for?” Hunk reminded him.

            He shook his head. “We have to be careful. The Grashnarians might not appreciate the idea that we’re spying on them.”

            “We’ll set them to one-way transmit,” Pidge said. “We’ll hear everything you and Allura hear, but they won’t hear us. Lance, can you and Blue get me a scan of the signals coming from the Palace? I can find a way to hide the comm signals in with those; we’ll filter them back out when they get here, and presto! All the information we need.”

            “Easy peasy,” Lance confirmed.

            “They might see an earpiece,” Shiro protested.

            “We can just use Allura’s earrings,” Hunk suggested. “You two will be together more often than not anyway, right?”

            “Well, they’re married now,” Keith pointed out. “Shiro, tell me I at least got to be best man.”

            Shiro rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course you were. And I want you doing an extra varga of meditation every quintant while I’m gone.”

            “What?” Keith sat up like a shot. “Why am I d…?”

            “Meditate on the subject of ‘Not Pissing Off A Senior Officer.’” He grinned and then added, “From what I’ve heard about what went on at the Garrison while I was off-world, you need it.”

            “Shiro…”

            “No buts. Hunk, while Pidge and Lance are getting the comm links squared away, check with Coran about possible ways to get messages _to_ us that won’t draw a lot of unwanted attention from the Grashnarians.”

            Hunk nodded. “Anything for our newlywed leader!”

            “And _all of you_ KNOCK IT OFF.”

            The sound of Lance making more kissy noises followed him out of the room.

 

 

            “Are you ready?”

            _No._ “Yes,” he said aloud, before adding, “‘Dear.’”

            Allura snickered. “You’re going to be fine. And you look every inch a proper consort.”

            He offered her his hand as she walked out of the Black Lion. She didn’t need it, but he had to offer. And, as he expected, she didn’t take the hand until she was out on the road. Then she squeezed it once and held it, smiling.

            “You don’t mind that these are…?”

            “Father’s clothes?” she asked. “It’s a little strange, I’ll admit.” Black closed up and raised its shield behind them. Allura dropped his hand and took his arm instead. “But they suit you.”

            The Grashnarians had a carriage waiting to transport them to the Diplomatic Palace. It hovered low above the road of what looked like marble, just outside the tall city walls of the same material. The carriage was heavily-gilded, made of what looked like dark hardwood, and the interior was luxuriously cushioned. In fact, it was one large cushion inside. Shiro had no idea how they were supposed to sit – lay? kneel? – in it.

            Fortunately, he was required to help Allura up into the carriage first. A lot of what he’d have to do on this trip was just “do as Allura does,” and since she was always expected to go first, there’d be little problem there.

            He watched her turn and sit and then swing her legs up into the carriage. She scooted over and patted the cushion next to her. “Just as I did.”

            _Thank you, Allura._ He followed suit, the door closed after them, the carriage rose to transport height and began moving. It was automated; there had been Grashnarians waiting to load up their luggage and make sure no one else tried to get into the carriage, but none of them had come with them. He and Allura were alone.

            _Don’t assume you’re ever alone_ , Coran’s warning came again to his mind. _They might have cameras and microphones everywhere._ If nothing else, the team could, hopefully, hear them.

            So it was all the more startling to hear Allura comment, “Remember we can’t be as open about our affections, dear. We don’t want to scandalize anyone.” She even took his hand – his right hand – and squeezed it again.

            He looked to her, brow furrowing, but then realized: _if there are truly cameras everywhere, then our little act has to start now._ But he could practically hear the team laughing.

            He nodded. “I understand. But know that, no matter what, my affections for you have not changed.”

            She grinned at his clever phrasing. “We’ll get through this, and then things will get back to normal.”

            “As normal as they can be, under the circumstances.”

            She sighed. “The Coalition would benefit greatly from the Grashnarians. We just have to convince them that it’s to their benefit as well.”

            “They’ve already freed themselves from the Empire,” he acknowledged.

            “But they do still have trade with the Galra, through the other local worlds. I can’t truly blame them for that; who else is there to trade with in this sector? But that is, I’m afraid, going to be the sticking point for them. We’ll be asking them to sever a major economic artery, and most of the Coalition forces are distant. The Castle of Lions is one of the best ways to close that distance, so we may end up playing courier quite a bit to make up for that.”

            “Should we maybe reconsider our timing then?” he asked. The idea of getting back into his normal clothes and not having to worry about everyone waiting for him to screw up – again – was so tempting. “Why not wait until we’ve freed more sectors and systems closer to hand?”

            “I have my reasons,” she replied archly.

            It felt like a slap, and he couldn’t figure out why she’d say it. Ever since the whole ‘Zarkon was the previous Black Paladin’ debacle, he and Allura hadn’t kept secrets from each other. They were truly co-leaders and they shared their knowledge on all things, the better to make decisions. She always explained herself to him now, and to suddenly have her hold back like that…

            But it was her haughty tone that clued him in. She was The Princess; he was just her consort. There were some things that he wasn’t expected to be privy to, at least, by Grashnarian standards. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course, Princess,” and he hoped he didn’t sound as upset as he was. Even knowing that she was doing it for the theoretical eyes and ears watching them only helped so much.

            And then she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Have faith, husband.” She leaned in to whisper, “I’ll explain it to you when I can.”

            He couldn’t help blushing at the kiss on his cheek. It resurrected the memory of her in that dress, of her looking him over approvingly. It made his heart race again, and he hoped his reaction would be taken by any prying eyes as her having whispered something a little risqué in his ear instead of reassurances that he wasn’t being shut out again.

            “I always have faith in you, my princess,” he replied smoothly. It was easier to say when he remembered it was for a mission. Easier still that it was the truth.

            She smiled at him, eyes crinkling, and he was back in that universe where only the two of them existed… until someone yelling broke into his reverie. He whipped his head towards the window on his side of the carriage.

            There was a fight outside. It didn’t seem anything more remarkable than a bar brawl, but it also seemed out of place in this city of gleaming stone and lacquered wood. The windows were faceted crystal, and some of them were even different colors arranged together into mosaics, like stained glass. Everything was so clean, so polished… _but people will be people, I guess._

            Allura was looking out her window as well. “Something seems…”

            “Off?” he finished for her.

            She nodded without taking her eyes from the street. “Exactly. These people live in these beautiful homes, but their clothes are in disrepair.”

            Shiro’s brow furrowed and he took a closer look. She was right. For every well-dressed and purposefully-striding person, there were at least three or four tattered wanderers, their pleas unseen, unheard, and unwanted by those moving past.

            Shiro wanted to discuss it, but when he turned back to Allura, she was looking right at him. He knew in that instant that she was thinking the same thing he was, but neither of them could say it. Just in case. “Perhaps this is simply a poorer part of the capital city. All cities have them.”

            “Of course,” and her voice was dismissive as if that had assuaged her concerns entirely. But she chewed on her bottom lip as she turned back to the window.

            He swallowed. _I can’t believe I’m about to do this._ “Hey,” he said softly, reaching for her. He turned her gaze back to his with gentle firmness. “These are good people. That’s why we need them in the Coalition. You were right to bring us here. You always are.” He was laying it on a bit thick, but then he was supposed to be a subservient consort, not an equal partner. And then came the hard part. He leaned in towards her, licking his lips. _I can do this. For the mission. Just for the mission, because we’re supposed to be married, but we aren’t, and she hasn’t said I could do anything like this but surely she understands and_ …

            He lost track of his thoughts looking into her eyes. Allura was too beautiful to be real, and if he hadn’t been fighting alongside her all this time, he’d be convinced he’d dreamed her. But she was here and she _was_ real and… _she will kick my ass if I push it._

            So, at the last tick, he pulled his lips to her cheek instead. _Her complimenting me last night doesn’t mean I can just steal kisses whenever I want them._ He clamped down on his thoughts about exactly how much he _did_ want them and convinced himself he was just still awestruck from the sight of her at the ball as he pulled away.

            She was blushing and couldn’t meet his eyes. “Thank you. We’ll hope the Grashnarians agree with you.”

            He cleared his throat. “Well, don’t marry any of them to sway them.”

            She snorted. “As if I would! As if I _could_ , when I am already married.” She patted his hand.

            He smiled and went back to looking out the window. To steer his mind away from the fact that he had very nearly _kissed the princess_ , he refocused on the populace they were passing. They seemed to be nearly to the Diplomatic Palace, and there were fewer beggars. But the fact remained: things were not as well-scrubbed and sparkly as the Grashnarians wanted them to believe.

            _Could be nothing. Most cities_ do _have poor and homeless populations. But it seems strange that the Grashnarians – who seem so image-conscious – would deliberately send us along a road that seems full to bursting with people they can’t take care of._

_Could be that they’re making a subtle point. We_ are _asking them to cut off trade with the Galra. If this is how things are now, how much worse would they be with their main source of trade gone? Could be that word went out of our visit and the beggars came hoping for some foreign generosity. Or the Grashnarians_ have _sent us down the most prosperous path, and the rest of the city is even worse off._

The likeliest answer was some mix of the three. Perhaps it was all a ploy to make things in the city seem more desperate than they were. The Grashnarians could try to play the sympathy card, cite the plight of their poor people, and ask for increased concessions. It was a smart move, but it didn’t seem like something such a proud race would do.

            These were not an emotive people. Allura couldn’t even pretend to have married Shiro for love; she had to have married him for strategic reasons. He had a role as Royal Consort, and it did not involve romance, but instead dutiful obedience to his social superior. It wasn’t beyond consideration that they knew Alteans to be more “emotional” than they were, but it still seemed out of character for a race that did not like absolutes, did not like effusiveness or ingratiation.

            His head couldn’t decide yet, but his gut was uneasy about the whole thing. _Unless I’m still just upset with myself for trying to kiss Allura._ But he didn’t think that was it. At least, not entirely.

            They sped past the drunk and starving, the willfully blind and the pleading hopeful. Perhaps it was Shiro’s imagination, but the carriage seemed to pick up speed. He and Allura finished the ride in silence.

**~End of Chapter 1~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, love & nipnops to [pixie_rings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings) for her beta expertise! 
> 
> ==========================

            Shiro was eager to get started when they arrived. _The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll get this over with_. But that wasn’t how the Grashnarians did things.

            Their luggage was taken away as they were led into the Diplomatic Palace. It was a small, square building laid out on a high marble platform, like a gift sitting on a table. It had a quieter elegance to it that he preferred to the more ostentatious buildings he could see in the distance as they walked up the stairs.

            Once inside, the concept of “quieter” elegance had obviously been thrown out the window. Opulence screamed at them from every inch: inlaid iridescent mosaics, paintings and tapestries on every section of wall, and long, plush rugs. Rich plants and sculptures, immaculately-attired servants, glittering light fixtures.

            _They want to impress their guests, but they’re trying too hard._ Which seemed odd to him.

            His bafflement must have shown on his face, because Allura leaned over to comment quietly, “They were probably trying to impress the Galra, after all, as well as many other races. They’re covering all the angles this way.”

            That made a bit more sense. They knew other races were more ostentatious, and, not being showy themselves, had overcorrected. Or else there were other races who enjoyed these demonstrations. Either way, he felt almost smothered by pomp and stuffiness.

            Any hope of being led to a room and allowed to relax vanished when an impeccable Grashnarian approached them and asked grandly, “Shall we begin your tour, Princess?”

            _TOUR?_ But he was stuck with it as Allura smiled and nodded and they fell into step alongside their guide. Shiro groaned inwardly but chalked this up to a good intelligence-gathering opportunity and directed his mind to that instead.

            The first thing he learned was that this was only the top level of the Diplomatic Palace; there were floors beneath them, down into the “platform” that the building seemed to rest on from the outside. The lower levels had no natural light – no windows after all – but were also the more protected from attack. “Your safety is of great concern to us,” the tour guide declared.

            _Also means getting back out would be next to impossible without fighting your way back up to the top. Anyone who does make it through the building comes out onto those stairs – no cover at all. Easily picked off. We’re essentially diplomatic prisoners._

            He let Allura “enthuse” (to the extent the Grashnarians would let her) over these “safety protocols,” and kept his eyes peeled. They were given a full tour of the top floor – offices and meeting rooms, formal dining areas, showrooms of artifacts, etc. – before descending to the next level. There were fewer plants and sculptures here, but otherwise the heavy décor continued. Their guide stopped to explain every painting and tapestry, as they were representative of key moments in Grashnaria’s history.

            It took them three interminable vargas to get past those two floors. They hadn’t seen as many rooms on the second level, probably because most of them were meant as guest rooms. And apparently none of them were slated for him or Allura. _How far deep are you going to bury us?_ There had to be at least three levels, maybe four.

            On the third level, their tour guide continued to explain the art, though these were more tranquil scenes: an overlook of a famous lake, the mountains of the far north, etc. And then he stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Here we are. These are your rooms.”

            _Rooms?_ _Thank goodness._ He was already uneasy. The idea that he might have to share a bed with Allura had been both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

            “Take hold of the doorknob, Princess; it is ready to receive you.”

            Allura did as instructed, then smiled as the door clicked open.

            “Wait just a tick,” the tour guide said. “Let your consort do the same; we have programmed it for two keys.”

            Allura stepped aside for him. He closed his left hand around the doorknob, as he assumed it had sensors for finger and palm prints – traits his right hand no longer possessed. The knob warmed pleasantly, and then the door beeped.

            “It’s already open,” the tour guide pointed out. “But it has accepted your hand as its second key.”

            “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to let his “wife” go first or not, but his martial training refused to let her be the first one into a strange room. He pushed the door open and proceeded inside, looking for any sign of danger.

            There was none, of course. The room was like a luxury hotel, richly but impersonally decorated. This was clearly a reception area: couches, a desk and chair, art and plants and the like. He went to investigate the first door he saw, off to the right, and it was a half-bath – toilet and sink – presumably for the use of guests.

            Behind him, the tour guide was going over the provenance of every stick of furniture, explaining it all to a seemingly-appreciative Allura. Shiro just moved on: there were two more doors to be opened.

            The first was a more private seating area. A hologram along one wall made it look like a window overlooking one of the same landscapes he’d seen in the paintings in the hallway. It was cozy, warmer than the cold civility of the room he’d just left. Only that one door in and out though. He went back to explore the other door.

            This was a bedroom, with a huge bed tucked into one corner – literally. The head of the bed was a point that nestled perfectly into the corner and the mattress fanned out from there, expanding along the walls and out into a semi-circle. There were pillows along each wall and diaphanous curtains currently pulled back, clearly meant to encircle the mattress and its occupants.

            _Occupants._ It was the only bed. So much for that hope. _I’ll sleep on one of the couches,_ he thought. Their luggage had been brought up; it was sitting on the floor at the foot? Edge? …end of the bed. Armoire, vanity, and a door to a more luxurious bathroom with a large tub, a separate shower, toilet and double sinks.

            Well, at least they were going to be well-spoiled prisoners. _Better than a Galra cell, anyway._ But he didn’t like feeling closed in like this. He returned to the main room just as the tour guide and Allura came out of the private seating room. “And the master bed  & bath are this way,” the guide was saying.

            Allura caught his eye as she passed him. He let his mask down just for a moment and hoped she could see the uneasiness on his face. She nodded just a little and continued following the guide, so Shiro poked around the main room a bit more.

            There was a large sideboard against one wall. It was flawless wood, lacquered and highly-polished. Most of the drawers were empty, but one large drawer was cold when he opened it and half-filled with small bottles of what looked like water. He shut that again – though he desperately wanted a drink – and kept investigating. Another drawer under that one was ice cold, again half-full, but this time with small lidded boxes.

            “Ah, you’ve discovered the _fruetana_!” the tour guide said from behind him. “We have many flavors of it. Please, help yourself to some, as well as to the water in the drawer above.”

            “Thank you,” Shiro said, but he just closed the drawer. “Perhaps later.”

            “Of course, of course. You have half a varga until the midday observations and luncheon. Please, relax. We will send someone to you.” There was a digital display on the wall near the door that showed the time.

            “Thank you, Obseq,” Allura said with a winning smile. Shiro hadn’t been paying attention to the guide’s name. “I wish you well on this quintant.”

            “As I wish you, Princess, as well as your consort.” And with that, he showed himself out.

            Shiro exhaled and went to take a seat, dropping onto one of the sofas and stretching his arms out along the back. He let his head fall back and his eyes close.

            “I suppose you’re convinced everything’s poisoned?” Allura sounded amused.

            “Not yet, most likely. _Maybe_ drugged, but they’ll probably wait to see how malleable we are. So for now, it’s probably okay. Probably.”

            “Does everything have to be suspect?” And then he felt the couch shift with her presence.

He opened his eyes and raised his head and she was pulling her feet up onto the cushions, leaning in against his side. He felt his cheeks heat, but he made himself drape his arm around her loosely. _Eyes everywhere, potentially._ “Our safety may be of ‘great concern’ to the Grashnarians, but _your_ safety is the highest concern for me.”

            “You worry too much.” But she snuggled in against him and his heart began racing.

            _Glorified bodyguard_ , he reminded himself. “I only want to protect you.”

            “And the universe.”

            “I protect the universe best by protecting _you_.”

            “And by leading the team.”

            “Well, yes, but I was trying to be romantic,” he grumbled truthfully.

            She laughed and raised her head to kiss his cheek again. “I know, dear.” _I will never get used to her calling me that._ “So, what do you think? Are our accommodations suitable enough or should I demand better?”

            _Demand second level accommodations_ , he thought. _Easier to get out of here._ “They’re fine.”

            “You don’t sound convinced.”

            He cleared his throat. “They are very nice, but I feel… enclosed.”

            She sat up straight. “Are you alright?” There was no teasing in her tone, no hint of newlywed sweetness. She was genuinely concerned for him, and that warmed him far more than the little cheek kisses and endearments. Those were fake, for the mission. This was real.

            He owed her a real response, and he pulled his arms back in to sit up properly himself. “I’m… mostly fine. I just would have liked a window, some way to get fresh air. The rooms are very nice, and technically I could walk out that door right now, but…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Not when the Grashnarians might be watching. _I suppose if they offer us a room on the first level with a window, we’ll know they’re spying on us. But they likely wouldn’t make that obvious a slip._

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s only for a little bit.”

            He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know. I’ll be okay, really. It just sets me a little on edge, is all.”

            “I understand. But you’re not alone anymore.” She took his right hand in both of hers. “I’m right here with you.”

            He looked down at his hand enclosed in hers. The hand the Galra had taken and replaced. He wasn’t sure he wanted Allura here with him if “here” meant a prison. Whether the cell was barren or lush made no difference.

            _You deserve better._

            “What?” she asked.

            He blinked out of his reverie. “I… didn’t say anything?”

            She frowned at him. “You did.”

            “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” He stood abruptly, pulling his hand away from hers. “Do you want some water?”

            She was quiet as he walked over to retrieve a bottle, then asked, “I thought you trusted nothing here?”

            “We have to drink at some point. And, like I said, it’s less likely to have been tampered with now.”

            “I suppose. Besides, we have no negotiations today.”

            He turned back to her. “None?”

            She shook her head. “It is considered an unseemly haste.”

            He huffed. “Oh yes, can’t let people think it’s a shotgun wedding.” He pulled a bottle out for himself and one for her and shut the drawer with his hip.

            “What does that mean? ‘Shotgun wedding’?”

            “Very old-fashioned Earth term. Long ago, many people believed that there shouldn’t be, um… procreation outside of marriage.” He walked over and handed a bottle to her, then took a seat back on the couch to finish explaining. “If a father found out his daughter had become pregnant without benefit of marriage, he would supposedly force the man who’d impregnated his daughter to marry her at gunpoint. The term came to mean a hastily-arranged wedding, especially to conceal an out-of-wedlock conception.”

            Allura snorted. “Well, we _are_ asking for an alliance, but didn’t I already tell you I wouldn’t be marrying anyone to achieve it?”

            He smiled, pulling the lid off his bottle to take a quick swig. The water was clear and refreshing; didn’t mean it hadn’t been tampered with. “It’s a metaphor, dear.”

            “Yes, I got that. I was teasing, _dear_ ,” and she poked him in the side.

            He twitched away from her hand. “You’re supposed to behave yourself according to your station.”

            “My ‘station’ at the moment is your spouse,” and she tried to poke him again.

            “Careful! I’ll spill my water.”

            She eased away from him. “So, what I don’t understand about this ‘shotgun wedding’ concept is why they had a problem with out-of-wedlock conception in the first place.” She took the lid off her bottle to drink.

            He kept his guard up for more poking as he answered her. “It was a very old-fashioned concept.”

            “I suppose I can see _some_ point to it; the more support a child has in its rearing, the better, after all.”

            He nodded, but couldn’t answer, since he was taking another drink.

            “But surely that’s what contraceptives are for?”

            He shifted in his chair. “This was a long time ago, I remind you, but many faiths believed contraception to be a sin.”

            She blinked at him. “Preventing childbirth is a sin and procreating out of wedlock is a sin. So what are they supposed to do: just _not_ have sex before marriage?” When he nodded, her eyes went wide. “Your society is very strange, if you don’t mind my saying.”

            “It’s not… It was a long time ago, and it’s a religious thing – in a lot of different religions – and we don’t really… _I_ don’t…”

            She studied him carefully. “Do you believe sex before marriage is a sin?”

            “No, I don’t, so long as everyone involved is willing and able to consent.”

            “Have you…?”

            He saw where that question was going and cut it off. “It’s a moot point now anyway. Since the ceremony.”

            There was a flash in her eyes that he’d seen before. She didn’t like being interrupted. But she just shrugged. “Of course. Moot.”

            He knew it was the interruption that bothered her more than being denied the answer to her question. She would have wanted him to just say he didn’t want to talk about it. If it had been anything else, or under different circumstances, he would have let her ask. Hell, he might even have answered her.

            But right now, the last thing he wanted was thoughts of extramarital sex and Princess Allura. He didn’t want to think about the single bed – large, but still only the one – or about how far they might have to go to keep this charade. _Surely they’re not going to expect us to… I mean, not while we’re here on a diplomatic mission._ They had no proof they were even being watched. _We’ll just sleep next to each other and it’ll be fine._

            He cast about for something to talk about, some distraction to be had.

            “Has Coran gone over the midday observation ritual with you?” Allura asked.

            _Thank goodness._ He nodded. “Yes. I’m pretty sure I’ve got it down.”

            “Let’s go over it again, just to be safe. We don’t want to be rude to our hosts.”

            “Of course, Princess.”

            “After all, you have forgotten things in the past.” She was smirking just the tiniest bit.

            “One time!” he protested. “That was _one_ time!” But he smiled back.

 

 

            She didn’t bring it up until dinner. Lunch was a small, casual affair, with people walking in and out as soon as they’d finished eating (and after their ritual blessings and gratitude before and after the meal). But dinner was the two of them and about a dozen or so diplomats, as well as the Grashnarian Ruling Council. So Shiro didn’t blame Allura for waiting until they had everyone they needed assembled in one place.

            “We would like to demonstrate our gratitude for your hospitality,” she said after the first few bites of the main course. “With your permission, the paladins would like to put on a show for the people of the capital city.”

            “A show?” one of the councilors, Giani, asked.

            “We are uninterested in more of the hijinks we’ve seen broadcast,” Frex – another councilor – replied.

            Allura just smiled. “Not like that. Exclusive for you and your people: the true Lions of Voltron, as well as Voltron itself. Demonstrations of their abilities and power.”

            Shiro just focused on eating his dinner. The preparation for the show was going to be how he and the team could share intel, as well as perhaps wow-ing the council into the alliance proposal. But it was up to the princess to get them to accept it.

            “We have heard the tales of Voltron’s power,” Tespod grumbled. Technically, the members of the Grashnarian Ruling Council were all equal. In practice, Tespod was the leader, and therefore the _de facto_ ruler of the planet. “That is why we are hearing you out.”

            “And we appreciate that,” Allura replied smoothly. “But tales can be exaggerated.”

            The councilors looked at each other.

            “So we are offering to let you see for yourself,” she finished.

            “We appreciate the consideration,” Tespod answered stoically.

            Shiro kept himself from frowning as Allura continued to carefully schmooze. Even aside from being able to communicate with the team, he’d wanted the excuse to get out of the Diplomatic Palace, to be back with his lion. When he was flying Black – or even just sitting in the cockpit – he felt… not quite peaceful? Stable. Secure. You couldn’t pull the rug out from under the Black Lion. When he was one with Black, there was a confidence, a surety. _Black will always have my back. It will always look after me._ It was a relief, like he was connecting with a missing part of himself.

            And he knew what he was doing when he was piloting. He had a certain amount of diplomatic training, in the sense of “how to diplomatically address problems within your team,” but that was a far cry from this. Allura was still taking point on it, of course, but he…

            “What do you think, Paladin?”

            Shiro snapped out of his reverie. The councilors were looking at him. _Oh quiznak._

“Yes, what are your thoughts on the demonstration, dear?” Allura asked.

            _Speaking of having my back…_ He cleared his throat. “My team and I would need a little time to prepare the performance, but we would be glad to do so. Not in the city, of course; we’d need some open area, some practice targets to take out, that sort of thing.”

            “A flyover of the city would be very impressive,” Allura put in.

            “I agree, so long as it’s not too low. We wouldn’t want to disturb the citizenry too much. Might make a good ‘announcement’ of the show starting, though.”

            Allura smiled a little. Shiro directed his comments to the councilors however.

            “It’s no trouble for us. We’re glad to provide entertainment, especially in return for the accommodations you have shown us.” He hoped that was satisfactory.

            “You have given us much to think over,” Tespod said. “We shall consider the offer.”

            Allura pressed her hand to his right once, he smiled and nodded at her, and they resumed eating as the subject shifted to other entertainments in the capital city. They finished dinner, took part in the after-meal gratitude ritual, and left for their room.

            He waited until the door closed. “What do you think?”

            “I think they’ll go for it.” She stretched and yawned.

            “You’re sure?”

            “You doubt me, ‘dear’?” she teased.

            He smiled. “Am I allowed to?”

            She snorted. “When we’re alone, you’re allowed. A little bit.”

            He chuckled. “I’ll remember that. You want to shower first?”

            “If you don’t mind?”

            “I don’t mind. I’ll just meditate out here; I think I need it.”

            Allura smiled and patted his arm as she passed him, headed for the bedroom. She opened the door and then paused. “One more thing?”

            “Yes?”

            “We are visitors here, after all. It would be rude to make more work for their staff than is purely necessary.”

            “I agree.” He didn’t understand why she was saying it though.

            She smiled. “So, you’ll have to content yourself with just _sleeping_ next to me while we’re here.”

            He blinked and then realized what she was doing. _Just in case._ “Of course, my princess.”

            “Oh, stop.” Was it his imagination or was she blushing a little? “Just so long as you understand.”

            “I do. And I’ll be fine without …the physical reminder of your affections.” He cleared his throat.

            She giggled a little – she was definitely blushing now – and with a, “Good,” she entered the bedroom. She left the door open, but he assumed she’d shut the bathroom door for her shower, and he retreated to the center of the main room to sit and clear his mind.

            Focusing took patience. _Don’t think of being buried and enclosed. Don’t think of Allura in that dress. Don’t think of all the rules you have to follow while you’re here. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think…_ He shoved that aside – with effort – and focused on what he _could_ think about. He focused on the Black Lion, on the feeling of being in the cockpit, on the joy of flying. He let his mind and heart soar far away from the plane of his troubles into the endless blue of an Altean sky…

            _Altean?_ He came crashing back into his body and opened his eyes. _I’ve never been to Altea._ He’d never get the chance. He frowned and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. _Why did I think that? Why wasn’t it Earth?_

            A door opened, and he turned to the sound. The princess came into view in the bedroom, robed and nightgowned, still toweling her hair dry. He looked away.

            _I’m letting my screw-up at the ball – and the ‘reason’ for it – distract me too much. I’m letting my own fears get the better of me in this place. I’m here for a mission. I need to focus on that._

“Your turn,” Allura told him from the doorway.

            “I’ll be right in.”

            “Don’t take too long; I’d like to get a decent night’s sleep.” There was a pause. “Are you alright?”

            He nodded and then turned to smile at her. “I’m getting there.”

            “Good. Oh, and they don’t have the dryer systems that the Castle has, but the towels are warm and fluffy.”

            “That sounds nice.” He started walking.

            She moved away from the doorway and let him pass. He went to his luggage to retrieve the pajamas Coran had packed for him, then headed in to clean up. He didn’t let himself get lost in thought in the shower, just washed up and tried to prepare himself.

            _Please, not tonight_ , he begged. Each night he hoped he’d sleep through and not be torn from slumber by the nightmares of a half-forgotten year in captivity. It was happening less often now, but it still happened. He didn’t want to wake Allura, didn’t want the potential hidden cameras to see that.

            He dried off and got into his (black, of course) pajamas, brushed his teeth and finger-combed his hair into something resembling order. By the time he returned to the bedroom, the princess was already in bed, sitting against one wall, covers up to her waist and robe removed. She was reading a tablet, but she looked up and smiled at him. “Ready for bed then?”

            “As I’ll ever be,” he said quietly. He was about to be hit with the ultimate 1-2 combo.

            But damn her Altean hearing, she heard that, and laughed. “I promise, it’s quite comfy.” She set the tablet aside and pulled the covers back next to her.

            He smiled and walked over. “You know I don’t like strange beds.” _Or not knowing where I am when I first wake up._ It’d taken a little bit to get used to the Castle of Lions, even. That was the first part of his problem.

            “Well, at least I’ll be here with you.”

            “There is that.” _And that’s the other problem._ It was hard to sleep next to someone when you were used to sleeping alone. It took time to get used to – and he was, supposedly, already used to it.

            “Turn the lights off and come to bed. It won’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

            “I’m just worried about the negotiations,” he said as he figured out how to work the lamp. The light in the room vanished.

            “You worry too much. That’s my job.”

            He navigated using her voice. “The negotiations or the worrying?”

            “Both.”

            He hit the edge of the bed and turned to sit on it. “Well, let’s split the duty: you negotiate, I’ll worry.”

            She laughed that musical laugh. “Lay down. You need to at least try and sleep.” He heard the bedclothes rustle as she, presumably, suited action to word.

            He swung his legs up into the bed, groped for a pillow, and pulled it to him as he laid down. He left the blankets down near his waist; he usually didn’t sleep with a shirt on, but he wasn’t about to be half-naked around Allura.

            And then she surprised him by snuggling in next to him. She was on his left side, and she draped a hand over his arm. “Good night, dear,” she murmured.

            He licked his lips and repeated it back to her. She made a contented little noise and then there was just the sound of her breathing and the feel of her next to him. It was going to be hard to sleep tonight. He did the best he could. Between the additional heat source next to him, the shirt he wasn’t used to wearing, and the strange bed, it took him a while, but finally sleep overtook him.

           

 

            The next quintant the formal negotiations began in one of the stately conference rooms on the top level. Shiro had very little to do but sit there and listen – and watch.

            The councilors were Tespod, Giani, Frex, Hing, and Welx. Supposedly they each represented a different portion of the populace, but Shiro began to notice this wasn’t necessarily true in practice. Hing, for example, was meant to speak for farmers and “menial workers,” but they spoke very little at all. When they did, it was usually to support whatever Tespod had just said, though with very little passion. They simply agreed with their leader and fell silent again. Shiro had the impression that there was more going on with them.

            Giani was loud and opinionated, freely speaking her mind and frequently disagreeing with Tespod and the entire table. But she, too, was eventually brought back around to the commonly-accepted (and Tespod-approved) point of view – albeit grudgingly sometimes. She represented artisans of all sorts – dancers, singers, crafters, poets, painters, etc. Aside from the volume she often spoke at, she was Shiro’s favorite and the one he reckoned as being their best potential inroad on any issue.

            Frex was Tespod’s yes-man. Representing the wealthy, he rarely had to be brought in line because he’d fallen in step the instant any subject was brought up. That was a lost cause, and the two of them represented a formidable obstacle.

            Welx spoke for the clergy. There were three main religions on Grashnaria, and Welx represented them all equally, as indicated by her wearing a necklace with three different symbols arrayed on it: sun, moon, and a cluster of three stars. She was a different sort of quiet from Hing. She appeared far more calculating in when she spoke and what she said. Ultimately, she supported the main opinion, but she didn’t seem to like it. Another potential ally.

            And, of course, there was Tespod, representing business and trade. The basis for his opinions was inscrutable but he freely declared those opinions to the entire room, expecting and receiving his backing from the rest of the Council – even if Giani took some time to come around.

            Allura had her work cut out for her. Shiro’s opinion was called for sometimes, and he answered when it was, but mostly he just watched and listened and tried to formulate a plan of attack, as it were. As Coran had told him, the Grashnarians didn’t like to say “no” directly. The Councilors were pros at it. Their favorite phrase was, “I would be glad to,” but they had a lot of ways of denying requests while sounding like they were considering it or actually agreeing to it. Shiro marveled at Allura’s composure.

            The negotiations took breaks for the various scheduled rituals, as well as lunch and two brief “rest” breaks, but otherwise went from breakfast to dinner. Allura warned him quietly that there should be no discussion of “business” at the dinner table, and so it was more of the same empty chit-chat they’d had at the party.

            So it wasn’t until the end of the quintant that they had enough time alone together to discuss things.

            “Help me out,” Shiro said as soon as they were back in their room, “Did we get _anywhere_ today?”

            “I don’t think so,” Allura admitted. “They’re still an impenetrable wall.” She stretched her arms out ahead of her.

            “Giani doesn’t seem to like being part of that wall. Not sure Welx and Hing like it much better,” he pointed out.

            “But they’re still part of it.” She rubbed the back of her neck.

            “You okay?” he asked.

            “Fine, just… we sat for so long and talked _around_ issues instead of really talking _about_ them.”

            “Here, let me help.” He walked around behind her to rub her shoulders.

            Allura let out a sigh of relief. “Ohhhh, that’s nice. Thank you.”

            “If we can get Giani alone, I think she’ll talk to us.”

            “She is fond of the sound of her voice. Get my neck, will you?”

            “Yes, my princess,” he said in amusement, moving a hand there. “But the trick is the ‘getting her alone’ part.”

            “Maybe during one of the rest breaks? She and I use the same bathrooms. But it’ll be tricky to… ahhhh, right there. By the Ancients, thank you so much.”

            Shiro smiled. “What’s tricky about it?”

            Allura didn’t answer at first, just leaned back into his hands more. After a dobosh, she explained, “Grashnarian culture. We don’t discuss business outside of the conference room.”

            “Then don’t discuss business. Schmooze.”

            “Do what now?”

            “You know: ingratiate yourself. Carefully, because I know they don’t like that. Work to befriend her. Make her see you as someone she can trust. She can’t help but take that attitude into the negotiations with her.”

            “Ah. _Wretheldop._ ”

            “Sure, that.”

            She pulled away from his hands to turn and face him. “We really need to work on your Altean.”

            “‘I would be glad to.’” He couldn’t help grinning.

            “OH, THAT’S IT.” And she attacked, hands going for his ribs.

            “Ah! Hey! No fair!” Shiro backed away, trying to swat her hands away from him (gently).

            “What’s not fair is you saying that! How many times did I have to hear that today?” She was pursuing him, keeping up her attempted tickle assaults.

            “You’re attacking me after I was helping you out? What happened to ‘By the Ancients, thank you so much’?!”

            “That was before you showed your true colors, fiend!”

            His back hit the wall, and she redoubled her efforts, getting in a strike or two that made him squirm away. “Allura, stop it!”

            “Take it back! Or at least apologize!” She was grinning though.

            “Hey, it’s the truth! I haven’t had much time to learn Altean, but I’d…gyah!” as she got in a good shot at his side. “Okay, enough of this.”

            She wasn’t stopping. “You’re going to apologize then?”

            “Nope.” He grabbed hold of her hands and held on as tight as he dared. “Taking out the enemy’s weapons.”

            She was a little breathless from her onslaught. “Oh, am I the enemy now?”

            “You attacked me!” he pointed out, trying to get his own breath back.

            “You deserved it.”

            “And I have defended myself.”

            She didn’t answer that. The grin on her face was fading. Was it his imagination or had her body swayed a little closer to his? He lost himself in the colors and depths of her eyes. It was too easy to picture his hands letting go of hers, of his arms wrapping around her, pulling her in as close as he could, of…

            He didn’t know if he had actually let go or not, but her hands were suddenly on his chest. His arms started the imagined motion, but she pushed herself away from him gently. “I should get a shower. Get ready for bed. F-for sleep.” She licked her lips.

            “Oh, right. Yes.” He dropped his hands to his sides to make sure she didn’t think he was trying to do anything… even if he almost had been. “Absolutely. You’ve had a hard quintant. I should do my meditation.”

            “Right. Yes.” She backed away a couple of steps. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” He definitely caught the blush in her cheeks before she turned and hurried off to the master bathroom.

            When the door shut, he closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall. He focused on calming his breathing and tried not to think of how close he’d come to Way Too Far.

            _Ever since the ball, I can’t stop thinking of her as…_

As what? Beautiful? Radiant? Amazing? He’d always known she was those things. Why was it only now affecting him so strongly? Was it just because they were supposed to be married? Just because they were pretending to be newlywed and in love, but only in the distant, Grashnarian-approved ways?

            Everything was a contradiction here. _We’re married, but we’re not, and we can’t show that we’re not, but we can’t be too obvious about being in love, either. They don’t say ‘no,’ they say about a dozen other things that sound like yes but aren’t. Everything looks shiny and polished and prosperous, but the people are in rags and fighting in the street. We’re guests who can’t leave. We were invited to come, but we don’t seem to be all that welcome. The planet is ruled by a council ruled by one man._

Another headache was coming on. He shook his head to clear it and pushed off the wall. He wanted the calm steadiness of some meditation. He had to re-center, re-focus. _At this rate, we won’t be leaving here anytime soon._

**~End of Chapter 2~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to [pixie_rings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings) for her beta assistance! Also, I have been remiss in not thanking my friend Tybunny for her plotty help. I'm sorry, Bunnikins, and I still wuvoo!  
> =================================

            Quintants passed with little progress, and no word on the demonstration. “That is still under consideration,” was all they could get from the Council, and Shiro was getting worried. He didn’t like being cut off from his team in unfamiliar territory. He didn’t like the feeling of constantly being watched. He didn’t like having to keep his guard up for this long.

            The one good bit of news was that Allura seemed to be winning over Giani, in private, at least. She was making some good inroads with Welx as well. But even if she managed to sway both of them, that left three voices against. They needed one more.

            Hing was the obvious choice, but they kept so much to themselves that Shiro wasn’t convinced they didn’t have some way of just disappearing after meetings. He directed his attention to the secretive councilor but could learn nothing. It just made him envious. _It’d be nice to disappear, to teleport, to become invisible._ No point in longing for things he couldn’t have.

            Cohabitating with Allura was becoming easier. He hadn’t had a night terror yet, and while that tended to make him feel he was overdue for one, it still meant that, even with the strange bed and the shirt and the extra person – and that extra person being Allura – he was sleeping better than he’d expected. It still took him a little while to fall asleep, but once out, he slept well.

            Sometimes, he’d discovered, Allura twitched in her sleep. He watched her eyelids flutter, her brow furrow, and her lower lip tremble. At first, he’d just looked away, unsure of what to do. After this happened a couple of times, he finally reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. He’d intended to rouse her from what looked like a bad dream, but that hadn’t been what had happened.

            As soon as he touched her, she calmed. She snuggled in closer to him and the stress eased out of her face. In the morning, she seemed to have no recollection of the event, and he didn’t know whether or not to bring it up with her, so he’d let it drop. But each time she started to twitch, he calmed her now, and watched her drift back into untroubled sleep at his touch.

 _This is dangerous._ But he only thought that way in the clear light of day (what daylight they had in the Diplomatic Palace). At night, watching her ease away from fear and draw nearer to him, he was just happy: that she could sleep, that he could help her, that he was doing something good for her. And that was, of course, what was dangerous.

            They had a semi-comfortable domesticity going on, troubled only by the fact that they were veritable prisoners and that their “domestic routine” was actually neither of those. They were on another planet and the only routine was the constant circumlocutions of the Council. Trade was, as expected, the sticking point, and they were sticking to it quite well.

            They’d been there for most of a movement when it happened. The Council took one of their usual breaks. Shiro followed Allura out of the conference room but as soon as they stepped out, something caught the corner of his eye: Allura’s earrings were flashing. More than that; they were flashing in a pattern. A pattern he recognized.

            He put a hand on Allura’s shoulder and whispered into her ear, “We need to find somewhere private.”

            “Here? Now?” They glanced around and, seeing no one in immediate eyeshot, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the nearest doorway.

            The room was a mini-museum with display cases full of artifacts from Grashnaria’s history. Their tour guide had gone over all of them, of course. Such a room was bound to have cameras, but then they were assuming the entire Palace was bugged.

            He shut the door behind them and tugged Allura to one side before pushing her back against the wall. “Shiro!”

            He put his hands on the wall either side of her, then bent towards her ear. “Guys, what is it?” he hissed quietly.

            “Oh good, it worked,” Pidge’s voice whispered through Allura’s earrings.

            Allura froze for a moment, then put her arms around him as if encouraging the embrace. For the cameras.

            “I told you it would,” Shiro could hear Keith say in the background.

            “What’s going on?” he asked. “We don’t have much time, and you guys are _not_ supposed to be contacting us like this.”

            “This is important,” Hunk declared defensively.

            “Get on with it!” Lance insisted.

            Pidge’s voice took over. “First of all, we can’t reach you guys unless you’re on the top level. When you go downstairs, we’re lucky to pick up a stray word or two. Also means we can’t see if _they’re_ spying on you, but whatever they’ve made those lower levels out of is really good at blocking signals. The Blue Lion can get a layout of the place, but that’s about it.

            “Second of all, _they’re transmitting_.”

            “They’re what?” Allura asked.

            “We don’t know who’s receiving, but they are transmitting what goes on in your meetings to _someone_ ,” Pidge insisted. “Someone off-world.”

            “I don’t like this,” Shiro muttered.

            Hunk’s voice broke in, “And third of all, someone’s heading your way!” There was a soft click – presumably the team having ended their transmission – and Allura tensed. Her superior Altean hearing was likely picking up the incoming footsteps.

            Shiro swore quietly as he pulled away from Allura’s ear. He looked into her eyes, wondering which of them would come up with a way out of this first. She seemed lost, staring at him, and he couldn’t help wondering, _Did I look like this when I was watching her descend the stairs towards me?_ She blinked out of her trance and turned her head towards the door; whoever it was must be drawing nearer.

            He made a snap decision and tucked his face in against Allura’s neck, kissing her there. She gasped despite the high neck of her cape being between his lips and her skin – or maybe she was just playing the part.

            “Someone’s going to catch us,” she said, perhaps a little too loudly, sounding far more breathless than she should have been, as if they’d been at this for a bit.

            He couldn’t think of an answer, so he just pushed her collar down. “Forgive me,” he whispered against her throat, but if he could manage to leave a mark that _just_ peeked out over the edge of the collar, it would sell the deception that much better. He kissed her skin softly in apology before sucking hard.

            She gasped louder; her hands balled into tight fists in his borrowed clothes. “Shiro,” and her voice was tremulous, almost pleading, and for a moment he forgot about everything else. His name on her lips, the way she had said it… it shot through him like a bullet.

            And then the door opened and there was a significant throat-clearing. Shiro broke away from Allura to turn to the sound, channeling his inner teenager-caught-necking-by-the-parents.

            It was Hing.

            “I… did not mean to interrupt.” They cleared their throat again and shifted their weight uneasily.

            “N-no, no, it’s quite alright, Councilor,” Allura said, hurriedly righting her clothes and pushing past Shiro to smile at them. “We, uh… shouldn’t have been…”

            “I need to speak with you both. Alone. Tonight, after dinner. My room is on the second level, the door between the tapestry depicting the Unification and Lohmer’s rendering of Ketsendohn.” And then, as abruptly as they’d come in, they left, shutting the door behind them.

            Shiro looked to Allura in confusion. “Please tell me you paid better attention to the tour guide than I did.”

            She laughed. “Yes, well someone had to. I know where to go.”

            He sighed in relief. “Good. Uh… we should probably…”

            “…get back to the conference room soon,” she finished for him. “I agree.”

            “Um, about that… just now…”

            “You did good work,” she said, and then he saw her cheeks flare. “I mean, it was fast thinking to… Oh, you know what I mean.”

            He couldn’t help smiling. At least he wasn’t the only one feeling embarrassed. “I know what you mean.”

            She leaned in towards him to ask quietly, “How did you know the paladins were attempting to contact us?”

            He glanced around but didn’t dare leave her curiosity unsatisfied, not after the last time he’d denied her an answer. “Your earrings flashed. Not like normal when you’re receiving a transmission; they were flashing Morse code.”

            “Morse code?”

            “It’s an old Earth code, very basic, but very adaptable to different tech levels and situations. The Garrison still teaches it, in case of system malfunction or failure. They were sending the word ‘alert.’”

            She beamed and kissed his cheek as if they’d been flirting again. “Clever. Let’s get back.” She booped his nose and moved away.

            He nodded and began to straighten his clothing out, but she reached out and grabbed his hands, pulling him into a hug. “Wait to do that until we’re walking out the door,” she suggested in his ear.

            “Right. Good thinking.” He kissed her cheek this time.

            They broke the embrace and he headed back out into the hallway before smoothing out wrinkles and casting guilty looks around. She just walked with stately elegance past him towards the conference room, as if she had never done anything wrong in her life. But, just before they reached the door, she turned back to him and winked mischievously. Just to sell it to the cameras… and to whomever else might be watching, wherever they might be.

 

            “You enjoyed that,” Shiro accused her as they headed downstairs.

            “Dinner? It was quite good.” But she was smiling smugly.

            “You know what I’m talking about, dear.”

            She snickered. “You mean talking around them the same way they’ve been talking around us all this time? Giving them a taste of their own medicine and using a lot of words to say nothing? Because I certainly did no such thing.”

            He snorted. “Oh no, of course not.” He’d gone back into the conference room after the break expecting things to be tense, but Allura had apparently decided that being spied upon in return meant she could do as she pleased. And what pleased her was apparently vengeance.

            They’d gone from the negotiations straight to dinner, as usual, and he hadn’t been able to say anything about her behavior until now. “You owe me,” he told her.

            She stopped in the second level hallway, turning to look at him. “Owe you what?”

            “I had to hold in laughter. I had to keep from rolling my eyes. I couldn’t even grin! Do you have any idea how hard that was?”

            She patted his arm consolingly and then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you later, dear.”

            That killed the mirth a bit. He cleared his throat and hoped his blushing would fade before they got to Hing’s door. “We need to focus up anyway.”

            She nodded. “I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but it’s hard not to. What if they’re coming around to our side?”

            “Well, we’ll see. Which door is it?”

            She sighed and pointed down the hall. “The Unification tapestry is down this way. Honestly, Shiro, I’m surprised at you! You should have been paying attention.” She set off in that direction.

            Naturally, he kept pace with her. “I was paying attention to other things – like potential exits and possible threats.”

            She rolled her eyes. “You’re overprotective.” There was no teasing in that; she meant it.

            And he replied honestly. “I’m exactly the right amount of protective.”

            “Ugh. _Paladins_ ,” she huffed. She stopped outside a door and knocked politely.

            The door opened almost instantly and Hing waved them inside. They stepped in and Hing shut the door behind them. Their suite was larger, with more personal touches: holopics of smiling faces, childishly crude paintings of family, more color.

            Hing did not seem happy to be there. “Thank you for coming. Forgive my rudeness, but this is urgent, and I am…” They paused and looked down at the floor. “I don’t even know what I am. Afraid? Hopeful? I’m not sure.”

            Shiro exchanged a glance with Allura. Speaking of emotions this openly was not normal for Grashnarians.

            Hing seemed to know it, too. They gestured to a couch. “I’m sorry to say all that to you. I am like those I represent. I was not raised here, and I am not highborn. Things are simpler in the country. But I am babbling. We must get to business.” They sat in a chair.

            Shiro made sure Allura sat first before seating himself. “What is it?” He probably shouldn’t have asked, should have let Allura take point, but apparently they weren’t standing on ceremony here.

            Hing looked Allura in the eyes. “You are prisoners here. You have been brought here with lies, and the Galra are coming for you.” Their gaze shifted to include Shiro. “Both of you. Tespod thought your marriage quite convenient. He will have a second present for Zevox.”

            Shiro’s blood had started running cold as soon as the word ‘prisoners’ was out of Hing’s mouth. _I knew it._ It was something he’d rather have been wrong about.

            Allura seemed made of stone though. “The Grashnarians have no weapon or method to repel the Galra.”

            Hing nodded. “The Galra left voluntarily and started this lie to lure you here. Even now, they are gathering their reinforcements. Zevox is the commander in charge of this sector. He wishes to present the princess and her Lions to the Emperor. Or at least the Black one, if nothing else.”

            Shiro thought back to his Lion, shielded and waiting just beyond the city walls. It’d be simple enough for a Galra cruiser to haul up. They’d have a hard time getting in, of course, but just having the Black Lion … _and its Paladin._ _And Allura._

“Why are you telling us this now?” Allura asked them.

            “I cannot withstand the lies. I went along with this because I was worried about my people. The Galra have had us under a stranglehold for so long. Tespod made this deal with Zevox, hoping for his own personal glory. Frex I’m not sure about, but I know Giani and Welx went along with it for the same reason I did: it might win our people better treatment. You’ve been through the city; you’ve seen what it’s like.

            “This city lives a beautiful lie and tries to push aside the truth that we are dying. Tespod no longer cares about his people; he cares only for himself. But he has the backing of the Galra, and we… we are defenseless. There is nothing we can do to stand against him, so we try, as best we can, to help in what ways we are able. It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.”

            It was more than Shiro’d ever heard Hing say at one time. It was full of contradictions to the ways he’d been told to communicate with the Grashnarians. It was frank, straightforward, and there was a plea to Hing’s tone that begged for understanding.

            “I do not know how to help you,” Hing finished. “And I cannot aid you openly. The Galra know all our families. They have not made a threat against them, but…”

            “It’s implied,” Allura sighed. “I understand.”

            “Thank you for telling us,” Shiro said. “The truth is a good starting place.”

            “Your bravery in coming forward with this will not go unrewarded,” Allura promised. “We’ll do everything we can to help you and your people.”

            Hing seemed confused. “You are still prisoners here. The Galra will come when they have a large enough force.”

            “Let us worry about that,” Shiro told him. “Fighting the Galra is what we do.”

            They sighed. “For what it’s worth, I wish you luck. The stories of Voltron have been heard here. It’s hard to believe them; you were right to say that rumors can be exaggerated. But… I would like to believe them, very much.”

            Allura rose elegantly to her feet and smiled reassuringly. “We will prove ourselves to you – and the Galra. Believe that.”

Hing showed them to the door. “Please, do not reveal that you know, or, at least, that you found out from me.”

            “We’ll keep your secret,” Shiro promised.

            “Oh, and can I ask? It… might seem silly, but have you tried the _fruetana_ yet?”

            “Oh, no, we haven’t actually,” Allura said apologetically.

            Hing ventured a hesitant smile. “My family is renowned for their _fruetana_. Please try it and let me know your honest opinion of it. They are all quite curious about whether aliens would enjoy it.”

            Allura beamed back a smile. “We’ll go have some right now. Thank you for letting us know. About everything.”

            Hing nodded and held the door for them. “Thank you for listening. Honest opinions on the _fruetana,_ please!” That last was a little loud; Shiro wondered if it was for the benefit of whoever might be watching from the hallway.

            Hing had been very frank in their suite; either they didn’t think it was bugged or they knew it wasn’t. What point was there in bugging someone solidly under your thumb? Shiro wasn’t sure Tespod – or the Galra – were that trusting. But Hing apparently believed it to be true, as paranoid as they seemed to be about any public spaces.

            “One last thing,” Hing said from their doorway.

            They turned back to face them. “Yes?” Allura asked.

            “You might want to be more careful where you choose to have your dalliances. You two would have sent Frex into seizures at the impropriety earlier today, and Tespod would probably have been convinced you two were up to something more nefarious than just romance.”

            Allura blushed. _Well, at least I’m not the only one,_ because he knew his face was hot. He just cleared his throat as Allura forced a giggle. “Thank you for the warning. I was already planning a stern lecture for Shiro on controlling himself.”

            Shiro shot her a Look for that, which she ignored as she waved brightly at Hing who finally closed the door.

            “Oh, I’m getting a lecture, am I?” Because they _were_ in public, and he was willing to trust Hing’s paranoia.

            “After we try the _fruetana_ ,” she declared, heading back towards their rooms. “Hing’s on the verge of being insulted by our thoughtlessness.”

            “Is there a way I can change your mind on that?”

            “The _fruetana_? Not a chance.”

            “Not that. You know what I’m talking about.”

            “Well, maybe if you take some time tonight to think about what you’ve done…”

            He shouldn’t. He _knew_ he shouldn’t. But it was on the tip of his tongue and it was too good not to say. “…instead of what I could have been doing if Hing hadn’t walked in on us?”

            She was walking ahead of him, but he saw the tips of her ears go red and grinned. Of course, he was blushing, too, but she couldn’t see that.

            “Yes, definitely do _not_ think about that.”

            “As you wish, my princess.”

            She sighed. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

            “You married me.”

            “I had little choice,” she shot back in mock-irritation.

            He couldn’t help laughing. She was enjoying herself; it rang through her voice like a bell. He didn’t need to see her face to know she was probably smirking or grinning.

            “You always had a choice. You had your pick of anyone in any galaxy.”

            She stopped and turned back to face him as they came out onto the third level. “And yet I chose you.”

            “For which I am eternally grateful.”

            “You should be!” she declared, before sticking her tongue out and marching off towards their rooms.

            He jogged to catch up with her. “I am, I am! How should I prove myself to my princess?”

            “Not in public. Getting caught once today was enough.”

            “I was just asking a question!”

            “You’re impossible.”

            “You like it.”

            She huffed. “Unfortunately, I do.”

            Shiro blinked. That… sounded genuine to his ears. _She probably just means the banter. It **is** fun. Or she didn’t mean it like it sounded, or I heard her wrong or… or SOMETHING. _

            She opened the door and walked into their rooms; he hurried after her and made sure the door latched securely behind them. She headed straight for the freezer drawer.

            He wanted to talk about what Hing had told them. _Maybe they didn’t bug their room, but ours? Still can’t be sure._ He wished the paladins had been able to hear all that. _It certainly explains the transmissions; they’re broadcasting the meetings to the Galra._

            Honestly, it wasn’t a bad plan at all: they were isolated out here, away from the Coalition’s aid. Voltron was the most powerful weapon in the universe, but it needed all five pilots. Their marriage cover had given Tespod and the Galra the perfect way to get him away from his team.

            _All because of my screw-up at the ball. All because…_

            Allura pressed a box of _fruetana_ on him. The lid was off, and it had a small wooden spoon stuck in it. “I picked one at random for you.”

            “Allura, I’m… so sorry.”

            She cocked her head. “For what?”

            “For all of this.” He looked her in the eye and willed her to understand. He couldn’t explain when they might be overheard.

            It took her a moment, but realization lit up her eyes. “You don’t have to be sorry.” She took his free hand in hers. “I’m not. I’m not sorry for any of it.”

            “I didn’t know I’d be making things so much worse.”

            “Stop berating yourself. We’ll figure something out.” She smiled. “We always do. Together. _That’s_ why I married you.”

            A smile started to tug at one corner of his mouth. “I don’t deserve you.”

            “Yes, you do.” She squeezed his hand. “You always have.”

            He swallowed hard. _Don’t make the same mistake again._ Too late. He was staring. He knew he was staring. She was so close, her hand in his – his _own_ hand, not the Galra replacement – and she was smiling at him. She wasn’t dressed like some goddess of the cosmos, either. He couldn’t blame anything this time except himself, and no matter how much he tried to push it down, the realization surged through him.

            _This is a bad, bad time for this._

But would there ever be a good time? They were fighting for peace, for freedom, fighting to restore hope to the entire universe. And that fight could very well claim their lives. They might lose here, now, on this very planet. And if they did…

            There was never going to be a good time for this. Having realized it, his impulse was to say it. He didn’t like hiding things. He didn’t want to wait. He could, if he had to – years of training and self-discipline had taught him how – but some part of him was still that impulsive young boy who wanted to go out into the universe and see the stars. Even if – and maybe because – it was dangerous.

            He knew this feeling. He knew it from a childhood spent looking through a telescope when he should have been asleep. He knew it from the jealousy he’d had watching the heroes of sci-fi shows explore the galaxy. He knew what it felt like to be consumed and to give yourself over to it willingly. He knew what it was to be so deeply in love that you couldn’t imagine yourself without it.

            He licked his lips. “Allura, I…”

            “Oh, our _fruetana_ will melt if we just keep standing here!” She stepped back, pulled her hand away from his, and shoved a spoonful of it into her mouth.

            Reality fell in on him again, and he shook his head. “R-right. We can’t have that.” He followed her example.

            It was good. A little bit like ice cream, but chunkier. “It’s… it’s like spicy fruit? Strawberry,” he said.

            “But cold,” she agreed, nodding. “This one is almost too sweet for me.”

            “Here, let’s switch.”

            They literally ate away the rest of the evening with _fruetana_ sampling. Allura liked them all but had two favorites, the ones Shiro called “mint rain” and “sweet lettuce.” She devoured both of those boxes by herself, but fortunately, those were his least favorites. He found one that tasted like citrus snow, somehow, and found it very refreshing after the somewhat heavy dinner they’d had. He classified them by his own tastes: spicy strawberry, citrus snow, mint rain, candy ice (the one Allura had found too sweet) ... She had her own names for them, but he gave up trying to pronounce the Altean words with a semi-frozen tongue. They tasted and swapped and ate until he was sure he was going to burst, and that was when Allura left him to clean up, heading to the shower.

            Once that was done, he tried to meditate and, for the first time in a very long time, failed utterly. His heart was full of his feelings for Allura, his mind full of trying to figure out a way out of this trap they were in, and his stomach was full of _fruetana._ Eventually he homed in on the most important of the three.

            _I can tap out some Morse code for the team once we’re on the top level. Hopefully Allura’s earrings will pick it up. So that covers getting the info to them. But that still leaves the question of what to do. I can’t get to my Lion. They’re not going to let us leave._

He was still lost in thought when Allura came out to let him know the shower was free. He nodded and walked past her into the bathroom, still pondering. He worked on it all through the shower, through drying off, through getting ready for bed.

            He didn’t think of anything else until he walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom. Even then, it took a second for his brain to tap him on the shoulder. _Allura’s staring at me._

            “W-what?” he asked. He felt fine, aside from his worrying over this problem. Nothing seemed to be physically wrong that his brain could identify, but that didn’t mean anything.

            She swallowed. “Um. You… forgot your shirt. Dear.”

            He looked down at himself. “Oh, sorry. Force of habit. I was thinking and…” _We might be under surveillance right now._ “…you know I prefer sleeping shirtless.”

            She blinked. “Yes, of course, but you haven’t been lately.”

            “Would you rather I put my shirt back on?”

            “No!” She blushed. “I mean, if this is how you’re comfortable, i-it’s fine.” She forced a grin. “If any of our hosts come to the door, I’ll be sure to protect your modesty.”

            He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I just keep surprising you today, don’t I?”

            “Stop thinking and get some sleep,” she said instead, still blushing.

            He felt more nervous approaching the bed now than he had the first night. Now that attention had been drawn to the fact that he was shirtless, it seemed he could feel every scar on his skin burning under her gaze, mementos of violence and trauma in his life, most of it at the hands of the Galra.

            _I **won’t** let them do this to you_ , he silently promised her as he slid beneath the sheets.

            She curled up against him, as she had been doing the last few nights. But tonight, she draped an arm over his body. And she surprised him by whispering in his ear, “I won’t let the Galra hurt you again, Shiro. I promise.”

            He was stunned for a second, but then he smiled. “Thank you. And I promise you the same.”

            “Good night.”

            “Good night.” He closed his eyes. His plans for the next quintant filled his mind almost instantly, but he shoved them aside for now. She was right that he needed to rest. He basked in the lingering taste of _fruetana_ on his tongue and the soft sounds of Allura’s breathing next to him. He let himself melt into sleep.

**~End of Chapter 3~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious about _fruetana_? I tried to concoct some here in the real world! Recipe can be found on my tumblr [HERE](https://braincoins.tumblr.com/post/172646752212/so-since-shiro-allura-get-to-experience-the-joy).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you to [pixie_rings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings/works?fandom_id=10104017) for her beautiful beta-ing! :D  
> =========================================

            Shiro took every chance he could get to tap out the info to the team: on walls, on tables, on anything that wouldn’t look strange or draw attention. He just hoped they would hear it; he trusted them to realize it was Morse code. He repeated the message once, but that was all he could manage before the end of the day. Even keeping it short and sweet, he just couldn’t be tapping all day long.

            Knowing that their suite was the prison cell he’d first thought it to be wasn’t helping. He didn’t want to go back to it, and was anxious to leave it, even if the entire Diplomatic Palace was their prison. He couldn’t contact the team and they couldn’t contact him, either. He was still trying to figure out an escape route.

            _We have to take the fight to the Galra – and soon. It’ll take a while for their reinforcements to get this far out, but every quintant – every varga! – we’re stuck here is another chance for them to arrive._ Presumably the two of them would be transferred to a Galra cruiser at some point; that transfer would be a good time for the team to strike. But Shiro didn’t want to wait that long if they could help it. That was a last resort sort of plan, not one to start off with.

            “Do you think they got the message?” Allura asked when they were back in the suite.

            “Allura!” he hissed. “What if…?”

            She just shrugged. “What’s the worst that happens if they find out we know? We can’t leave any sooner, nor can we be transferred to the Galra before they’re ready. And we need to talk.”

            He sighed. “You’re right. I repeated the message once; hopefully they could hear it.”

            “Only once?”

            “Morse code takes a while. You have to spell out every letter of every word. There are certain abbreviations to speed it up, but I couldn’t use those for everything.”

            “So what next?” she asked. “We can’t just sit down here and let the Galra build up their forces.”

            “The main problem is getting us out of this building. From there, everything else is pretty straightforward.”

            “We are presumably here for peaceful negotiation,” Allura mused. “We can force their hand if I declare the negotiations a failure and wish to leave.”

            “And then what? We fight our way out?”

            “Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.” She grinned.

            “You have something up that pretty sleeve of yours?”

            She tsked and blushed. “Shiro.”

            “Sorry, sorry; it’s getting to be a habit.” He cleared his throat.

            “But to answer your question, yes, I do. I’ll explain while we have dessert.” She was already headed for the sideboard.

            He laughed. “You’re addicted.”

            She didn’t deny it. “It’s very good! Do you want one?”

            “Of course I do.”

            They talked over _fruetana_ , the princess laying out her plan. Shiro wasn’t sure they could pull it off, but he promised to try. “The only problem is that we’d have to tell the Paladins,” Allura concluded.

            “I… think I have an idea on how to do that, if you can get us out of ‘negotiations’ for one quintant.”

            “I’ll think on it in the shower.” She rose to leave and then turned back to him. “Shiro, I feel I should apologize.”

            “Apologize?” He got to his feet again. “For what?”

            She looked down. “It’s my fault you’re even here. We could have just explained to the Grashnarians that you forgot the appropriate ritual for some reason. We could have come up with some other way, but I took the easiest path, and because of it, you’re a prisoner again.” She looked back up to him. “I’m so, so sorry.”

            “Oh, no. No, no, Allura, you don’t have to apologize for that. You did what you thought was best at the time. You reacted with grace and quick thinking to cover for _my_ mistake, for my… entire lack of thinking.” He chuckled ruefully. “And I’d rather be here with you than have you here by yourself.”

            She blushed faintly again even as she informed him, “I’d figure out a way to free myself, you know.”

            “And even if you didn’t, the team and I would come get you. So, see? Nothing to apologize for. After all, there are worse things than pretending to be married to you.”

            She smiled, and he wondered if she could hear his heartbeat pick up. They were on the same page, on the same _line_ , as they so often were. There was a… connection there between them. _Or it’s just that we’re both strategic thinkers. Or it’s a coincidence. Or I’m just fooling myself._

She turned away to go shower. He centered and focused himself for his meditation, which went better than it had in a while. They had a plan. Maybe it would work and maybe it wouldn’t, but just knowing what the next steps were going to be was enough to settle him. _No plan survives first contact with the enemy._ They’d improvise where they had to, but they had a foundation.

            It was what he’d done during his time in captivity, from what little he could recall. Plan, scheme, figure out ways to escape. Even if they hadn’t worked, it gave him something to do that kept the hope alive in him of getting away, maybe even getting home.

            The Castle of Lions flashed in his mind.

            The team high-fiving after a victory.

            Everyone laughing over dinner.

            Coran’s hearty congratulations.

            Allura’s warm smile.

            _Home_.

            He opened his eyes.

            “Your turn!” Allura called from the bedroom.

            “On my way.”

            In the shower, he let his mind drift among memories of the past and flashes of hopeful futures. He didn’t fight it, he just let it come, and it was more refreshing than any shower, any beverage, any frozen treat. He let himself wonder and imagine, just for these few minutes. _What would it be like to kiss you in the rain? What would it be like to lay my head in your lap and feel your fingers card through my hair? How would my name – my full name – sound on your lips? What would it be like to go to bed and wake up again to that secretive smile you gave me as you entered the ballroom?_

He shut the shower off, got dressed, brushed his teeth. He turned to face the door. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he’d be back in the present, in a prison, back to being her Black Paladin and nothing more. And that was okay. He was proud of who he was, of what he’d become. And if it was pointless to expect more, well, he could always dream.

            He opened the door and walked into the bedroom to find her… gone. “Allura?” he asked, worry starting to rise up.

            And then he got a pillow to the face.

            He recoiled and looked over towards his assailant. Allura had hidden off to the side, behind the armoire; she was only wearing her nightgown, pillow in hand, grinning wickedly. “I think we could use a way to… what’s the Earth expression? Blow off some steam?”

            He nodded. “Maybe so. But I’ll point out that you’re the only one who’s armed in this fight.”

            She smirked. “I never said I’d play fair.” And she baffed him with the pillow again.

            He ran for the pillow armory – the bed – while she batted him about the head and shoulders. He did his best to raise his arms to block her attacks until he leaped for the bed and grabbed a pillow, rolling over to block with his new shield & weapon. “Ha!”

            She adjusted her pillow-y attacks to his abdomen, but that left her open for a quick strike to her head. It mussed her hair and she stumbled backwards.

            “What’s the problem, Princess?” he teased as he got to his feet. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

            She smirked, and the battle was on in earnest.

            Naturally, she was a skilled fighter, no matter what her weapon. They danced around each other, swinging when they each thought they had a good shot. A short skirmish would erupt and then they’d break away from one another again.

            “You said you’re not playing fair, right?” he asked her.

            “All’s fair in love and war, ‘dear’.”

            “Oh, do the Alteans have that saying, too?”

            “No, I just heard Lance use it once and decided I liked it.” She took a swipe at him.

            He dodged; the pillow just barely missed his nose. “But the point is, you were willing to be unfair. I assume that still holds?”

            “It does.”

            “Oh, good.” He dropped his pillow and charged her, pushing her back to the bed.

            “HEY!”

            “All’s fair,” he reminded her as he half-picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. He pinned her down and reached for another pillow to rain down his vengeance upon her now that she was prone, but she got two good thwaps in on his face and head. He rolled away and nearly off the mattress, but she grabbed hold of his hand and hauled him back onto the bed proper.

            “You won’t get away that easily after that little stunt!” she warned him.

            The stand-up pillow fight had quickly devolved into pillow wrestling, if anything. They each had their turns smacking the other around with their weapons, but neither of them could pin the other for long. It made sense that Allura could easily break his hold, but the reverse shouldn’t have been true. Which meant…

            “You’re holding back,” he accused her as he pinned her down again.

            “I don’t want to hurt you. Or the pillows.”

            He snorted. “If you’re not going to be a challenge, I don’t see any point in continuing.”

            “Oh, so you yield then?”

            “Not a chance.” He got in his best strike yet, straight to the right side of her face. “I just want a good fight.”

            “Well, if you insist.”

            He wasn’t even aware of what she did or how she did it. One second, he was on top of her and the next, he was flat on his back on the bed and she was the one on top. _Fast as well as strong. I’ll have to remember that._ He tried to raise his pillow to fight, but she pinned his wrist down. She pinned them _both_ down, easily.

            Shiro flexed against the weak points in her hold, but she didn’t so much as twitch. She didn’t redouble her strength or adjust her hold; she didn’t need to. “This what you were looking for?” she asked smugly.

            “It’s a bit more what I expected, anyway.”

            She leaned down a little. “I’m not letting you go until you yield.” She was smirking in the certainty of her triumph.

            He was still testing various places. She adjusted her legs either side of his, to make good and sure he couldn’t kick her off. That was it. She was confident (with good reason) that he couldn’t break free.

            “Are you done yet, Shiro?” Her voice was a smug purr.

            He swallowed hard as he realized two things: first, that he had definitively lost, and second, the position they were in. He took a long blink, licked his lips, and looked her in the eyes. “I’m… not going to fight you anymore.” He focused on getting his breath back and thinking of the coldest places he’d ever been.

            She leaned in a little closer. “Smart man.”

            He tried to keep his gaze on hers. He couldn’t help his eyes flicking to her lips, to the rapid fall and rise of her chest, to the mark he’d left on her neck, back to her lips and her eyes. He exhaled out the last bit of tension in his body. He surrendered and let himself fall. It was too late to save him anyway.

            He watched her lick her lips, saw her tilt her head just enough, and he held his breath.

            But then she sat up, swinging her legs off him. “W-we should… get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow if we want to get out of here.”

            He sat up to look at her. She was blushing harder than he’d ever seen before, trying to get her hair back into order after their rowdy pillow fight. They were still close; she just wasn’t on top of him anymore. It wouldn’t be hard to reach a hand out, to comb his fingers into her hair, to cup her face gently as he closed that last distance.

            He started to do it, but when his hand came into view, it was the Galra prosthetic. He dropped it immediately. _She wouldn’t want to be touched with this. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. The pillow fight was fun, to blow off steam, like she said._ He wondered again if she’d heard his heartbeat and realized what it meant, if that was why she had backed off so suddenly.

            “Yeah. Sleep’s… good. Uh… do you want me to sleep on the couch? Since we’re no longer play-acting for the…”

            “No. Stay here. I mean, if you want to, it’s… it’s fine. You don’t have to, of course. But we have to resume ‘play-acting’ tomorrow anyway. If we change our behavior, then it will be an obvious tell. Maybe they know what we’re up to now and maybe they don’t. We have to go ahead as if they don’t.” She cleared her throat.

            He nodded. “Of course, Princess.” He stood to gather up the now scattered pillows.

            When he turned around, Allura was straightening out the bedclothes. “Thank you.”

            “To the victor go the pillows,” he joked weakly, hoping to break the awkwardness that was choking the room.

            She rewarded him with a smile. “Go to sleep.”

            “Yes’m.” And, awkwardness aside, it had been good: stretched his muscles out some, got his heart rate up for reasons other than his anxieties or her charms. He turned out the light and crawled into bed. He expected she’d keep her distance that night, and she did. But when he awoke the next morning, she was curled up right next to him once more.

 

 

            Immediately upon arrival in the conference room, Allura moved for a recess. “Let us just take a break for one quintant, the better to muse upon the various points brought up. Shiro and I would like to learn more about your people’s history, so perhaps Obseq could be sent for? Or whoever else might be able to give us more in-depth knowledge of the art and historical objects on display here.”

            The Councilors shared a long glance, but, in the end, agreed. After all, the prisoners weren’t asking to leave the building. It didn’t really matter what they spent their time doing so long as they stayed here. Obseq was brought in, and Allura asked for another, longer tour, if he didn’t mind? He was happy to oblige.

            Shiro didn’t start right away. At first, he just wandered around with Allura, asked the occasional question to appear interested, and formulated in his mind how he wanted to make this plan as succinct as possible for transmission. Then he put his arm around Allura, his left hand resting on her shoulder. He kissed her temple briefly, to appear affectionate, and as soon as Obseq started in on the history of the ancient Vesculari tribe, Shiro started tapping on Allura’s shoulder. It was close to her ear, so they should be able to hear it, even over Obseq’s commentary.

            The first thing he sent was that coded transmit was okay. He waited, and Allura’s earrings flashed: dash dash dash pause dash dot dash. “OK.” They’d received. He sought confirmation that they’d received yesterday’s message and got an affirmative. He started his next message with the words “New Info” and went from there.

            Even keeping things succinct, it was Morse code. There was a lot of tapping, a lot of waiting in between for messages to come back. And, of course, Allura’s earrings flashed the whole time. Obseq generally was facing the artwork or objects, but, of course, Allura had to ask questions to keep the tour going. And thus, at some point, Obseq would face her out of politeness. And that meant, inevitably…

            “Excuse me for asking, Princess, but are your earrings flashing?”

            “Are they?” Allura asked. The flashing stopped for a moment.

            “Oh, I… must have imagined it.”

            “Likely just glinting in the sunlight from the windows,” she assured him. “Do carry on. You were going to tell me about the customs of the Hurkal.”

            “Oh, yes, I was. So, the Hurkal took warfare very seriously.”

            “War is not a game,” Shiro spoke up, to make it appear as though he were listening avidly.

            “No, of course not, but to the Hurkal, it was central to their society. Bringing them to the peace talks was quite difficult…”

            And he was off and going again. Shiro tapped an OK and the message from the team resumed. That worked for a while, when they were in rooms with windows. But once they got into the hallway, there was no excuse. He had to trust Allura to cover for them, because staying on the top level was the only way to communicate with the team.

            And, as he’d expected… “They’re most definitely flashing, Princess. Your earrings, I mean.”

            “Are they? Oh blast.” She sighed heavily as the flashing halted. “They’re malfunctioning _again_. Ten-thousand-year-old technology, you understand. They’re meant to monitor my life signs and flash in certain patterns and colors to indicate illness or injury, but sometimes they just…”

            And the team heard their cue. The flashing restarted. Shiro had to keep from smiling as he read Q-U-I-Z-N-A-K in the flashes.

            Allura continued, “Well, sometimes they just go off when nothing at all is wrong. Coran can fix them, usually; do you think it’s possible I could send for him?”

            “Well, I am not the authority on that subject, but it’s, ah, highly unlikely he would be allowed into the Diplomatic Palace, Princess.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry then. Sometimes they stop on their own. We’ll just have to hope for that.”

            “But you aren’t sick or injured?” he asked.

            “No, no, I’m fine! They’re just… what’s the Earth word, dear?”

            Shiro snapped out of his reading. They’d gone ahead with the rest of their message. “Uh… buggy.”

            “Yes, they’re buggy. I do apologize. I hope they’re not too distracting? I was looking forward to finding out more about the first intertribal peace treaties.”

            “I will try my best to ignore it, Princess.” Obseq cleared his throat. “So, yes, the Gerudo tribe preserved this moment in history on their gorgeous pottery, as you can see here. I’m afraid most of it is in shards; we’ve found only a few unbroken pots.”

            Shiro went back to reading and transmitting, which they could do in relative peace now. The paladins back in the Castle would occasionally need time to figure out what to send, and in those moments, he’d pay attention and ask questions and help keep the tour going. And the first chance he got, he leaned in to whisper in Allura’s ear, “Clever work, my princess.”

            She snorted and gave him a playful shove – not with her full strength, thankfully – but he caught her blushing. He shoved his personal thoughts aside as her earrings began to flash again. (Though it turned out to be the paladins teasing him by asking him how the marriage was going. He tapped out FOCUS on Allura’s shoulder, and the next transmission was back to business.)

            Not long after, they took a break for lunch. Allura and Shiro chatted over the midday meal about what they’d learned, the better to appear enthusiastic for the rest of the tour. Hing stopped by to say hello, and Allura didn’t miss the opportunity to ask for more _fruetana_ in her – and Shiro’s – favorite flavors. Hing grinned and said they’d bring them by personally later.

            “Oh, don’t put yourself to any trouble on our account!” she demurred.

            “Sharing the fruits of my family’s labor is never a trouble,” they assured her. “I am pleased you’ve taken such a liking to it. They will be, as well. An alien princess and her consort both enjoying our _fruetana_! They will be very happy.”

            There was a throat-clearing behind them, and Welx was frowning disapprovingly. “Must you speak this way in public?” she asked.

            “Forgive me, colleague.”

            She rolled her eyes. “That’s what you always say.”

            “And what you always do,” Hing pointed out with a smile.

            She huffed and left, but Shiro got the impression it was an old joke between friends more than anything else.

            “Anyway, I’ll leave you to your meal and bring the _fruetana_ by later. I wish you peace.”

            Allura and Shiro replied in kind. He waited until they were out of earshot to whisper, “I wish more of them were like Hing.”

            “Is that the _fruetana_ talking?” she asked with a grin.

            “Only a little.”

            They laughed and finished eating. There was the rest of the top floor to get through – and more transmitting to be done.

            And that was how the quintant went: walking around, tapping out Morse code on Allura’s shoulder, and occasionally learning more about Grashnarian history. Some of it was actually very interesting; Shiro just found Obseq’s delivery a bit dry. And he was, of course, distracted by sending and receiving messages.

            Once that was done, they killed the rest of the time until dinner with the tour. Shiro couldn’t help noticing that much of Grashnarian history was the result of the struggle to bring warring tribes to peace with one another. That was why the rituals were so important, why everything was so constrained: you didn’t know what might offend another tribe, so you kept things polite and in check. _Do they really_ still _need to be like this with each other? Or is it just habit now?_

            Of course, Hing was an outlier. Though they’d said that many people back home were like them. But then Shiro realized: _we’re the new tribe._ Of course they’d insist upon rituals and circumlocutions: you don’t want to offend the people holding the most powerful weapon in the universe. Shiro wondered if they’d been an easy conquest for the Galra then, who tended to blast through obstacles (polite or otherwise) with violence.

            _Perhaps Tespod is toadying up to the Galra, but everyone else… they don’t know what to do. This is how they’ve dealt with conflict their whole lives, throughout all of their history: cover it up. Put on a smiling mask and pretend to get along until you actually kind of do._

            Even Hing had admitted they didn’t know how to help them. It was brave enough of them to throw aside centuries of tradition, but it didn’t make them any more knowledgeable on how to help. The Grashnarians had not had war, as far as they knew. Shiro suspected that wasn’t the case.

            “Excuse me, Obseq?”

            “Yes, Prince-Consort?”

            “You’ve told us much about how the various tribes unified themselves and brought peace to the planet. But there was never war? Never any fights?”

Obseq shifted his weight uneasily. “I…”

            “Many people have had such unfortunate tragedies in their histories,” Allura reassured him. “It does not diminish who they are as a people now.”

            “We do not speak of it,” he insisted weakly.

            “You mentioned the Hurkal were a very war-oriented tribe,” Shiro reminded him. “That it took some doing to get them to come around to the idea of peace without conquest. Surely some of that ‘doing’ was in the form of battles?”

            Obseq deflated, undone by one of the few pieces of history Shiro had actually caught. He stepped closer and dropped his voice. “There is no mention of war in any of our recorded history. Ever. But there is a theory amongst some of our historians: that recorded history began with the peace accords for a reason.”

            Allura nodded thoughtfully. “They wanted to commemorate the peace and not the war.”

            “That’s most of it. The rest of it is that the tribes were so busy fighting that they simply had little time for writing things down. It was all oral history up to that point, and so, of course, it is lost.”

            “But once they sat down to establish peace amongst themselves, they had the time to record it and figured they should do so,” Shiro mused. “So they had written language before then or they created it on the spot?”

            “We’re unsure,” Obseq admitted. “We haven’t found anything older than the Tablets of Accord, but then most archaeological study was halted by the arrival of the Galra.”

            Allura frowned. “They cut you off from your own history.”

            Obseq swallowed hard and straightened up. “W-well, I’m sure you two would like to freshen up before dinner, yes? I will leave you to it. I hope the tour was satisfactory. I wish you peace.” And he didn’t even wait for the ritual response before striding off as fast as his dignity would allow him.

            Shiro shared a glance with Allura. “They don’t remember how to fight.”

            She sighed. “I envy them that.”

            He rubbed her shoulder and kissed her temple. “So do I.”

            “But it also means that… well, let’s get ready for dinner.”

            Shiro could practically hear what she hadn’t said. _It also means that they truly are defenseless against the Galra. That Hing was right about that: the Galra started the lie that the Grashnarians had a weapon capable of defeating them. These people wouldn’t have even thought of such a thing._

He hadn’t truly sought confirmation of Hing’s words, because he’d already known about the transmitting, because Hing was straightforward instead of evasive, because they were afraid of being caught. He’d trusted his gut, but it was good to have confirmation. Grashnarian history would never have allowed for the possibility of superweapons. He wasn’t sure they’d know what to do with sharp sticks, even.

            Shiro caught up with Allura and wrapped an arm around her shoulder again. He had one more message to send to the team.

 

 

            The next morning, they began.

            “I am truly sorry it has come to this,” Allura said after the usual ritual to begin the meeting, “but as it seems our goals are not in alignment, we must depart. I would far rather have had the Grashnarians join us in our fight against the Galra, but I cannot and would not force you into it. The Coalition needs us, and we must return.”

            The other Councilors all looked to Tespod. “We have not said no.”

            “You have not said yes,” she pointed out evenly. “And we cannot stay longer.”

            “Yes, you can.”

            She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

            Tespod rose majestically to his feet. “You cannot leave yet. There is much still to be… discussed.” His smile was a full-on, bared tooth grin that made the other Councilors quail.

            “You misunderstand,” Shiro spoke up. He stood as well. “The princess and I _are_ leaving. We would rather leave on good terms than bad, but we will leave regardless.”

            “You won’t be leaving on any terms. You cannot,” Tespod said.

            Allura was still seated but her voice carried that same authority she had shown at the ball, commanding those present to rise. “Voltron is the most powerful weapon in the universe, Councilor. We offered to demonstrate its abilities peacefully, which you have denied. Do you really want this sort of demonstration instead?”

            Shiro reached out with his mind and his heart. It was hard to do without closing his eyes, but he could still feel it, there within him: a bond that could never be broken, that surrounded and fortified him.

            Tespod chuckled. “You cannot form Voltron. You have only one paladin here,” he gestured to Shiro, “and no Lion. The others you left behind cannot form Voltron; even with the Black Lion, they have no one to pilot it.”

            His grin was like a skull. “No Black Lion, no Black Paladin, no Voltron.”

            Now Allura rose, with a slow and elegant grace that carried more power than all of Tespod’s pomp and self-importance. “Your mistake is in thinking that Voltron is the only thing for you to worry about.”

            And, on cue, there was a deafening roar from above that had the Councilors hurrying to cover their ears. Allura just smiled.

            Shiro couldn’t help smiling as well. The roar of the Black Lion filled him with a sense of strength and certainty that he hadn’t felt since this whole thing started. Even without actually being in the cockpit, he felt like he could handle anything right now. And not just because the Black Lion was hovering just over the building.

            “In the names of all the gods, what is going on?” Welx asked.

            Frex jumped and yelped a little, then ran to a window. “Tespod!”

            They turned and saw the Red Lion growling at them through the crystal window.

            “The building is surrounded,” Shiro informed them all. “ _You_ are the ones who aren’t going anywhere. The Lions won’t attack so long as we’re allowed to leave peacefully. That’s all we want.”

            “Well, not quite _all_ we want,” Allura added. “We know about your collaboration with the Galra. We know about the lies, the deception, the transmitting to them – all of it.”

            “What?! HOW?!” Tespod demanded.

            “We have our ways,” Allura told him. “And we have no intention of sharing them with you. We’re going to leave here and we’re going to go attack that gathering of Galra ships at the edge of the system.” She looked around the table. “We’ll deal with this sector’s commander, and free you from Galra control for good.”

            Shiro couldn’t resist adding, “You’re welcome.”

            “You can’t…!” Tespod protested.

            “We can, actually,” Allura replied smoothly. “We have many times. Whether you wanted a demonstration of Voltron’s power or not, you – and the Galra – are about to get one.”

            Welx cleared her throat. “This is Voltron’s reputation. This is why they have a Coalition of races who have joined them. They have freed numerous planets and systems from the Galra Empire. And once we are free of them as well,” she was looking Tespod dead in the eye, “your reign over this Council will be over.”

            “If I were you,” Giani put in, sounding smug, “I’d ‘retire early.’ Spare yourself and your family the embarrassment of us overthrowing you.”

            “Collaborators! Traitors!” Tespod declared.

            “Not at all,” Hing commented. “We have seen our opportunity and seized it, that’s all. There is already violence in the streets. My people – the lower classes, the trod-upon and overlooked – are remembering how to hurt, how to maim, how to kill.” They sighed. “I would rather they didn’t. But as it stands? They enact violence against each other now, but all it takes is a leader to channel that towards this Council, and then where would you be?”

            “It’s easier this way,” Welx said.

            Tespod growled and lunged towards Allura. “I’ll take you to Zevox myself!”

            Allura sidestepped easily, and Shiro was there to catch Tespod’s rather sloppy punch and grab hold of his arm. With one simple twist, Tespod was on his knees, wincing and struggling to get free.

            “Unfortunate,” Allura said. “Shiro?”

            “Yes, Princess?”

            “You have a Lion to get to.”

            He grinned. “What about Tespod?”

            “We can manage him,” Giani promised. “Welx can just sit on him.”

            “Giani,” she groaned.

            “We will keep him from interfering,” Hing promised.

            Everyone looked to Frex. He was trembling.

            “I-I… I’m not getting in anyone’s way! Please, both of you, leave! Th-that’s fine with me! Just don’t hurt me!”

            “We wouldn’t harm anyone who didn’t give us a reason to,” Allura assured him. “If you’re sure you have things under control here, then we have a battle to see to.”

            “I’ll go let the guards know you can leave,” Giani declared before bolting for the door.

            “Shall I give you a lift back to the Castle, Princess?” Shiro asked. He let go of Tespod, who scooted into a corner, sniveling and crying.

            “Ask Keith to take me over; the Red Lion is faster. I don’t want any of you away from the fight any longer than you need to be.”

            “As you wish. Well then, after you, my princess.”

            Her smile was that same one from the ball: privately amused, secretly pleased… he hoped. At least this time he was a little more in on the joke. She ran for the door, and he was right behind her.

**~End of Chapter 4~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter to wrap it up! Sorry there's no battle scene. v__v
> 
> As always, couldn't have done it without my friends, especially my eternally-patient beta [pixie_rings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings/works)!  
> ======================

            Shiro walked out of the Black Lion, pulling his helmet off. He always kept a spare handy near the cockpit, but he wasn’t sure how well it went with King Alfor’s clothes. He hadn’t had time to change into his full uniform.

            As he tucked the helmet under his left arm, he realized he wasn’t alone: Allura was in the hangar, staring at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. He smiled as he approached her, and she blinked out of her trance, red spreading across her cheeks. “So, we did it,” he said.

            She cleared her throat. “I never had any doubt.”

            “You have a lot of faith in Voltron.”

            “And in you. All of you, really, but… especially you, Shiro.”

            “Thank you, Princess.”

            “Oh, stop it. We’re not in front of the Grashnarians any longer.”

            “Thank heavens. So, I guess this means the pretend marriage is over then?” When she did nothing but nod, he teased, “Do we have to get a pretend divorce?”

            She laughed. “I feel that’s unnecessary. But, for the record, I enjoyed pretending to be married to you. I mean, the whole ‘kept prisoner through excessive politeness and dithering’ was less than ideal, but the rest of it was quite nice.”

            “Thank you. The feeling’s mutual.”

            “It must feel good to be back.”

            He nodded, looking around the hangar. “Very good.” He looked back to Allura and smiled. “I’m so glad to be home.”

            “You… consider this your home?” She seemed surprised.

            “Well, yeah. It is.”

            “What about Earth?”

            “Well, that’ll always be home, in the sense of being where I’m from. There’s a lot I miss about it. But it’s… different now. I don’t know. When I think of home, I think of being here.”

            She was beaming. “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”

            “Really? Why’s that?”

            She cleared her throat and looked away. “I… just am.”

            Something occurred to him then; he wasn’t sure why. “Oh, and as long as we’re discussing our ‘marriage’? I’m so, so sorry.”

            She looked back to him. “For what?”

            “For everything. My screw-up that forced your hand in the first place. My behavior as your pretend consort, especially the…” He pointed to a spot on his neck to correspond with the mark he’d left on hers. It was fading, but if you knew where to look, you could still see it. “I… didn’t even ask first.”

            “You did what you had to do to, Shiro. I don’t blame you for that. And if you hadn’t stopped and stared at me instead of kneeling, I would’ve been in there alone.”

            “You would’ve figured something out.”

            She nodded. “But it was nice to have you by my side through it. Just because I _can_ do things on my own, doesn’t mean I always want to.” She reached out and took his right hand in both of hers. “You were more help than I think you know, Shiro. And I’m so very grateful to have had you with me.”

            They smiled at each other for a long moment. Shiro cleared his throat and Allura suddenly dropped his hand. “And it wasn’t all bad. There’s the _fruetana_ , right?”

            She beamed again. “There is. I’m going to ask Hing for some before we go.”

            “And I’ll make sure they have more ready for you when you bring the volunteers back.”

            Because it hadn’t seemed right to either of them to abandon the Grashnarians now. They were in a vulnerable position, after all, and there were still Galra stationed on the other local worlds. So the Lions and their Paladins would remain here while the Castle went back and enlisted volunteers to come help Grashnaria rebuild and fortify. Only then would they leave and go back to the main Coalition sectors.

            Which reminded him… “So, why are we way out here in the first place? You never did explain.”

            “Oh! That’s right, I’m sorry.” She pulled up a screen to one side of them. “This is the Coalition territory.” It lit up. “This is the sector we’re in now,” as another area of the screen lit up. She zoomed out. “This creates a tunnel that the Galra down here,” she pointed to a dark area, “will have to go through in order to get to the rest of the Empire.”

            “Where we can pounce on them,” Shiro continued as understanding dawned on him. “In time, we can cut this area off completely…”

            “And then we can focus attention on freeing that pocket down there, and we’ll have a good chunk of the Empire surrounded,” she finished. “Exactly.”

            “Textbook pincer movement.”

            “Cutting off their supply lines, just as you suggested so long ago.” She sent the screen away.

            He grinned. “I didn’t know you paid so much attention.”

            “It’s hard not to pay attention to you. I-I mean,” she added hastily, blush staining her cheeks once more, “you’re… you’re my cons- co-leader, after all.”

            He laughed. “You were going to say ‘consort.’”

            “We were there for nearly two movements; it’s gotten to be habit.”

            “Yeah, I was kind of getting used to it, too.”

            Silence descended on them again. He was staring, he knew it, but it would be a while before he saw her again. _It might not be the best idea to tell her right now, to send her off with that weight._

            She broke the quiet first. “Shiro, I feel like there’s something we need to talk about before I leave.”

            He kept himself from cursing. He normally liked it when they were on the same page, but now it made him incredibly nervous. But it was understandable that a perceptive and intelligent woman like Allura had put all the pieces together. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Of course.”

            “All this time, being with you, it… it’s been very nice. Even knowing it was all for the mission, it felt good to have someone beside me, to have you there to rely on all the time. It’s been a long, long time since I was able to feel that sense of warmth and security with someone.”

            “I’m glad I could be of help to you.” He waited for the “but” that was surely coming.

            She licked her lips and her eyes peered up into his. Those eyes he could so easily lose himself in, if she’d let him. He felt like he was saying good-bye to them, like this really was a divorce.

            “I… I’ll miss it. A lot. I’ll miss you. And not just because it’ll be a bit before we get back to Grashnaria. I…” She took in a breath and exhaled slowly. “I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds here, and I want you to understand you’re under no obligation at all, but I thought… well, being married would be a bit much, but perhaps we could…” She tsked at herself, cleared her throat, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. “Takashi Shirogane, I would very much like to court you, if you are willing.”

            He blinked. “‘Court?’ As in… date?”

            Her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure what a fruit has to do with courtship?”

            “A fruit? Oh, no, not… not that kind of dates. Um… dating is… going out with someone, getting to know one another, but… in a more romantic fashion?” He was blushing as he tried to explain it.

            But she brightened. “Oh, yes! In that case, I would like to date you. But only if you want to! I don’t want you to do this because I’m a princess or because you feel you have to.”

            He was smiling ear-to-ear. “Allura, I would love nothing more than to be able to date you.” He was practically giddy and didn’t know how to contain or express it.

            Her smile was radiant, but before she could say anything else, her earrings lit up.

            “KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS!” the Paladins were chanting through the comm link.

            “Oh, honestly,” Allura huffed, and with a quick double-tap to the earrings, they fell silent. Shiro figured he was at least twice as red as Allura was in that moment. “ _Paladins_.”

            “I’m sorry about that.”

            “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Just promise me you’ll give them extra duties while I’m gone?”

            He chuckled. “I’ll keep them busy.”

            “But, you know…” She stepped closer to him. “Their idea isn’t a bad one.”

            He licked his lips and nodded a little. “I agree. But…”

            “But?” she asked, sliding a hand up his chest while the other rested on his hip.

            “But we _know_ the Castle has security cams everywhere. They’re probably watching us right now.”

            “Let them,” she whispered as she leaned in. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this.” And then she kissed him.

            He didn’t realize he’d dropped his helmet; his brain only distantly recorded the sound of it hitting the hangar floor. They wrapped their arms around each other, and everything else faded away but the feel of the woman he loved in his arms, her lips pressed against his. It felt _right_ , like he was exactly where he should be, and he never wanted this to end.

            It would have to, of course. He and his team had a planet to protect and a sector to work on freeing; Allura had to recruit and gather up Coalition volunteers. They had obligations to see to, and neither of them could turn their backs on their responsibilities. But for right now, he let all his walls drop, all his masks fall away, so they could be as close as possible.

            And even when they broke for air, they stayed close, holding one another, foreheads touching, eyes closed to better bask in the warmth and comfort of this moment. Duty would call, they would answer. But they would do it together, no matter how many worlds apart they might be.

 

 

**Meanwhile, back on Grashnaria…**

            “Extraordinary couple,” Welx commented. They were on the steps outside the Diplomatic Palace, taking in the sight of the Castle of Lions outside the city walls.

            “That’s one way to put it,” Giani replied. “I was gonna say ‘super hot.’”

            “Really? I thought they were kind of unfortunate-looking myself,” Hing said.

            “You need to expand your horizons,” she told them. She sighed and lamented, “We totally should have put cameras up in their rooms.”

            “Giani!” Welx scolded. “That would have been a hideous invasion of privacy! Are the performances of the erotic art theater not enough to sate you?”

            “Like all artists, I am always looking to experience the New,” she declared snootily.

            “You’re looking for self-gratification.” Hing couldn’t help rolling their eyes, but then brightened. “At least they liked the _fruetana_!”

            Welx sighed. “We have to create an entirely new system of government and possibly _culture_ for our people and you two are fixated on sex and food.” She turned to head back inside. “I am going to pray for our people _and_ you two.”

            “Something tells me we’ll be okay,” Hing said. They watched the Lions fly out of the Castle towards the city. “I have hope, anyway.”

**The End**


End file.
